Desperate Measures
by Cats070911
Summary: Barbara faces a challenge to avoid being forced out of The Met. When Tommy begins to feel their future is threatened, he takes desperate measures to protect their partnership.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply. I promised LewisHobsonFan this story for her Easter reading - a slow and gentle-(ish) romance.

* * *

"Havers! Stop!"

Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers swung around and glared at her boss. "What?"

Tommy did not want another of their arguments broadcast across the office. He closed and locked his office door then gestured for her to have a seat. "I have no idea, but first you were running late then after checking your email you've bitten off the head of Hillier's secretary, then poor Winston and now you are gnawing voraciously at my neck."

"I am not!"

Tommy sat behind his desk, keeping a barrier between them. He hated having to discipline her but she was clearly in one of her most irrascible moods. "Barbara, you either tell me what's wrong or I suggest you go downstairs, take a walk for ten minutes and come back with a better attitude."

"It's nothing. I'm fine."

"The words every husband dreads."

"You're not my husband."

"A fact for which, at this moment, I am eternally grateful." Tommy ignored her grumbling. "Well?"

Barbara slumped into the chair in front of his desk. "They sent me my three month warning letter."

Tommy looked up. "Really? You're almost forty? Well, I suppose you are given you're only a bit younger than me."

"Thanks. No need to rub it in."

"It's not that bad, Barbara. I survived. You will too."

"It's not my age, it's the test. I read the parameters. For my height, I'm a few pounds over the weight limit."

Tommy's tone softened considerably. He stood and he walked around his desk and sat on its edge next to her. "The test is nothing to worry about. If I can pass, you will. A few pounds won't matter much."

She glared at him. "Okay, quite a few pounds."

Tommy took the opportunity to openly appraise her body. He noticed a blush start in her neck and move up into her ears. He always enjoyed watching that. One day he hoped to trace it's journey with little kisses. He sighed inwardly. Somehow he had to find the courage to discover if she was attracted to him in that way, or whether she only saw him as her friend. The issue was that he was not sure he wanted to know. Every time he thought they were getting closer, she did what she had this morning, and withdrew behind her defensive walls.

She did not look particularly overweight, but her dowdy clothes hid her shape effectively. In his mind she had a wonderful figure, but he had little empirical evidence. He was staring and had to look away. "Not that many. We will cut out the after work chips and beers at the pub for a few weeks."

"And I can't do the sit-ups or other exercises." Barbara sounded disproportionally distraught. She stood and started pacing the room. "I'm going to fail."

"Even if you do, it's not going to change anything."

Barbara stopped in front of him. "You don't know do you? They changed the rules starting this year. If you fail, you get one more chance a month later. If you fail that, I'll be out."

"Out of what?"

"The Met."

She now had his full attention. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Inspectors and above just get put on a programme to improve their fitness. Us working folk get unceremoniously turfed off the force. They want the fittest and the best these days. No more Constable Plod."

Tommy put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her firmly into his side. They did not need words to convey their horror at being split up. When she sighed and leant her head against his shoulder, he shifted his weight and enfolded her in his arms. It had been a long time since they had been physically this close. It felt good. Too good. Her body was tense but as he held her and gently caressed her back, she relaxed. "We'll find a way. They won't split us up."

Tommy smiled as her arms went around his waist. He gently kissed her hair wishing he had to courage to kiss her properly. He briefly considered proposing marriage but feared Barbara would laugh at his extreme reaction.

After a few minutes, Barbara stirred. "Thanks, Sir. You must think I'm an idiot."

"Not at all. How unfit are you? We run around a bit and you seem to cope?"

"I doubt I can run five kilometres though. The last few years I just work, eat and sleep."

"What about your Aikido?"

"Haven't done any in ages."

"Do you want a week off to go to that dojo?"

"No, I have to do more than that. I'll work it out. Thanks for listening."

Tommy tightened his grip and held on to her as long as he dared. "Barbara..."

"Yes?"

For once, her eyes were unreadable. Tommy's bravery fled. This was not the time to tell her what he needed to say. "If there's anything that I can do."

She smiled. "Thanks, Sir. Maybe scan the classifieds looking for jobs that say 'wanted, ex-policewomen for high paid role'."

Tommy laughed. "You make that sound like... well, you know what I mean."

Barbara hit him playfully on his back with her fists. "Maybe I'd look good in leather." He reluctantly let her go when she pulled out of his grip, and with a smile left his office.

* * *

Barbara booked in for an assessment at her local gym, The Happy Body Fitness Centre. As she stood in her old lycra bike pants and a tee-shirt that was far tighter than she remembered, she shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"Barbara Havers?"

"Yes."

"I'm Ben."

"You're a man!" Barbara looked him up and down. His blonde hair and chiseled good looks were instantly intimidating.

"Um, yes. Yes I am. Is that an issue?"

"No, just an observation." Barbara felt her face flush the colour of a UK Mail postbox.

Ben frowned then shook his head. "Right, well Barb, we'll..."

"Barbara."

"Sorry?"

"I don't like being called Barb. Makes me sound too... prickly."

Ben smiled. "Okay. Is Barbara okay or would you prefer Miss Havers?"

"No, Barbara's fine."

"Good. Well, Barbara, I'm going to help you design a programme to meet your goals. Now, let's start with your height."

"163 centimetres."

"Weight?"

"75 kilos, give or take."

"Give, or take?"

"Between 75 and 78."

"Well you are a little overweight then. Let's do some measurements and then a pinch test."

Twenty minutes later, her vital statistics had been recorded on the gym's online system. Barbara cringed at the thought of people flicking through the files and saying, 'here's another fat one'. Her percentage of body fat measurement had earned a stern look from Ben. Every one of the chips she ate at the pub had found their way to her hips. She wanted to scream that she only ate them so she could spend more time with Tommy. She sighed. She could hardly blame him for her weight issues.

"So Barb... ara. What are your goals?"

"I need to be a healthy weight in twelve weeks and be able to run five kilometres in under forty minutes. I also need to be able to do fifty sit ups and deadlift forty kilos."

"Quite specific."

"I have a work fitness test."

"Right, well let's see." Ben typed furiously on his keyboard. Barbara sat on the hard plastic chair and looked at the pictures on the walls of fit young bodies sweating and looking far too happy. This was not a joyous thing. This was pain and humiliation. She hung her head and waited.

"I think you'll enjoy this programme, Barbara. Five days a week. Two in the gym and three in the pool."

"Pool? Oh no. I don't swim well at all. I can't tumble turn or breathe properly."

"No, not swimming, although that is good if you can add it in. I was thinking of aqua aerobics."

That sounded a lot easier than the gym. "I don't have to swim?"

"No, you stand in the pool and do exercises. It's fun. We have classes in the morning and evening, so whichever suits you better. Start with our Happy Splash programne and as you get fitter you can move up to the harder levels, Happy Circuit, Happy Turbo and Happy Deep."

"And the gym?"

"We'll go out now and run you through your routine."

"Okay. But can't we just focus on the situps and things I need to do for my test?"

"Not really, Barbara. We need to tone you up and lower your bodyfat. Moving big muscle groups uses energy after your workout to repair and replenish muscle fibres. You also need cardio work to improve your circulation and burn some energy. I guarantee this will work for you."

She nodded. "It better."

Barbara did not mind the five minute warm up on the treadmill. She did not even mind the rowing machine or the lat pulldowns, but once they moved onto the ab crunches and shoulder presses, her body started to object. "Is this really necessary?"

"Only if you want to pass that test," Ben replied with a misleading sweet smile.

Barbara grunted. "What's next then?"

"Free weights. No deadlifts until we build up those arms and strengthen that core."

Thirty minutes later, Barbara eased herself into her car. She ached already. This was going to kill her.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Barbara was back at the centre. She was anything but a happy body. Her old swimming costume had disintegrated in her hands, so she was back in her bike shorts with an old polyester Chelsea football shirt. As she stood by the azure pool, Barbara nervously fingered the hem. The shirt was an old one of Tommy's that he had given to her after she fell in mud during one of their cases. She had washed it and tried to return it, but he had told her it suited her and insisted that she kept it. Now, like a talisman, she wore it whenever she needed extra courage and knew he was not around to help her.

The pool was modern, unlike the public baths, she had used as a child. No dressing sheds were lining the walls, or white tiles with yellowing grouting stretching to high, streamy windows. Here the pool was surrounded by space and light. One wall was a series of huge glass windows that looked out onto a grassed exercise area where several men were climbing on what seemed like a giant version of a complicated children's playground.

There was a smaller therapeutic pool to the left with wheelchair access. Several older men and women stood in there, rhythmically moving rehabilitating limbs in the warm water. One man, who had a pronounced limp as he walked up and down, smiled sympathetically at her. She gave him a quick wave and turned away.

Barbara dipped her hand into the main pool. It was pleasantly warm. One group of giggly women used the access ladders to enter the pool. Others sat on the edge and jumped in. Small waves rippled across the surface which glinted in the morning light that was now beginning to flood through the windows.

Most of the class seemed to be overweight, middle-aged women, a description she thought sadly, probably also described her. She carefully held the steel ladder as she descended into the pool. Barbara found a space where the water was up to her armpits, which seemed to be where most people stood. The water was cooler than she expected and she regretted not going to the bathroom again. As people moved around her, some smiled or nodded. Others splashed past to catch up with their friends. She felt alone.

Everyone faced the long side of the pool, where there was a little stage set up with a mini-trampoline. The instructor bounced to the front. She was young and fit and, Barbara noted jealously, skinny. "Hi, my name is Nikki. Is there anyone new to aqua today?"

Barbara tentatively put up her hand. Thirty faces turned to look at her. "Hi," she said painting on a false smile and wishing the pool would swallow her.

"Welcome!" Nikki said gleefully, "what's your name?"

"Barbara."

"Well, Barbara, just take it at your own pace. Right, ready?" Nikki flicked a switch on her body mike and the sounds of an 80s dance tune echoed off the windows.

"And scoop!" Nikki began making sharp scooping motions. All the women around her did the same, so Barbara began to imitate her. It did not seem too hard.

"And pull!"

Now the move changed to driving arms through the water in big sweeping motions.

"To the side... and jump!"

Barbara clumsily tried to follow. She just got the hang of it when the movement changed again.

"Three, two, one and punch!... Now doubles, short, sharp movements... Come on ladies, pick up the pace... Three, two, one and scoop!"

For the next fifteen minutes, Barbara felt she was always two steps behind everyone. Her shirt hampered her movement, and her feet kept slipping on the tiles of the pool. Twice she went under and came up spluttering, her red face not solely caused by exertion.

"Right, take a breather. Come forward and get a drink and a set of dumbbells."

All the experienced hands had their designer water bottles lined up on the edge of the pool. They chatted happily amongst themselves. An older lady, who was three times Barbara's size, handed her a pair of blue foam dumbbells. "These are the easiest ones, love."

Barbara shrank back to her place in the pool. Nikki smiled, almost sadistically as she rotated the dumb bells in front of her. Barbara mimicked her, finding the resistance of the water made it far harder than it looked. After twenty rotations she paused. Her shoulders and forearms ached. "And reverse." The sadistic woman now wanted them to rotate in the opposite direction.

"Now push in front, like this. Good job ladies, keep it up. Now add in the side. To the front, shoulder, to the side. Front, shoulder, side... Keep it going. Push. Come on, harder. Now down. Front, shoulder, side, shoulder, down. Keep those arms straight. Feel the pull. Now add in those legs. Knees up. Come on push yourselves. Harder, harder."

Barbara would have sworn, but she was too busy panting. She had thought this would be fun, not the equivalent of some ghastly medieval torture. Right now she would have confessed to anything to the inquisitor to make it stop.

"Now rock'n'roll. Keep those legs off the floor. Forward, back, forward back."

Nikki actually expected that Barbara would be able to hold her legs off the floor and move them forward while her arms moved back, and back while he arms moved forward. It was a physical impossibility. Her arms and legs wanted to move together. She ended up in a ball and sank beneath the water. She lifted her arms and the foam dumbbells popped into the air. She planted her feet and stood.

"You okay there?" Nikki asked without any trace of real concern. "You'll get the hang of it."

Barbara cursed quietly then ran her hands over her head to move the hair from her face and remove the excess water. Quite a few of the women smiled at her which made her feel worse.

The next exercise made her shoulders ache. Lying almost face down Barbara rotated her dumbbells in front of her in a bizarre underwater dog paddle. Oddly, she did not move forward. Everything stayed still except the underwater churn of sixty arms.

"Good work, ladies. Okay, turn over. Arms out straight and lift those knees to your chest. Ankles together. Come on, lift. And lift." Barbara flipped onto her back and tried to lift her knees. Her shirt billowed up with a pocket of air making it dance in front of her face. She glanced at the clock on the wall and could swear it was running backwards. The class was scheduled to last fifty minutes, and they had barely done twenty.

Barbara's arms flailed as she tried to keep her balance. Her shoulders were on fire as they strained to support her. She dropped her toes onto the tiles. "Feet up. Don't let them touch the bottom. This is about balance and core strength." Barbara tucked her feet up as Nikki's eyes bored into her.

"Okay ladies. Well done. Dumb bells back. Grab a noodle."

One of the women thrust a long blue foam pool noodle at Barbara. She took it, wondering how it worked. "And push." Nikki was standing holding the noodle in both hands and pushing it into an arc. With the ends behind her back, Barbara imitated moving the noodle forward and back. It seemed much easier than the dumbbells.

Nikki held the noodle in the middle and began to push it down into the water at her side. Barbara followed. This was easier. They swapped arms and pushed again. These exercises were much more her pace, and Barbara managed a self-satisfied smile.

It was short-lived. When she tried to rotate the noodle at her side, imitating Nikki, the ends whacked her in the face and back of the head. She looked to her left. The woman next to her was happily rotating. Her noodle ends stayed upright in the water without assaulting her. Barbara groaned. So much for the noodle being easier.

Worse was yet to come. "Legs. And pulse, pulse. Little, little, little."

Nikki had the noodle under her left foot. Barbara had no idea how to get it there. She pushed one end under the water and tried to step on the end. Momentarily she had it under control, but as she tried to move her foot along the noodle, she overbalanced and fell face first into the water. Red-faced, she stood up and grabbed the noodle.

"Same leg and lift then press. Lift and press."

Barbara stood staring at her. "Like this," Nikki said. She grabbed the noodle with both hands about a third of the way along then lifted her foot into the arc and guided it to the floor allowing her hands to slide towards the ends.

Barbara tried to mimic her. She managed to get her foot onto the noodle about a foot under the surface, but as she pulled it towards the floor, she forgot to let it slide through her hands. Again she tumbled headfirst into the water, and her noodle shot into the air like a missile before landing on the woman in front.

By the time Barbara retrieved it, the class had moved on. "Noodles under your arms. Lie back. Knee lifts."

The knee lifts were slightly easier using the noodle for support until Nikki issued her next sadistic command. "And twist. Left. Right. Left. Right."

Barbara struggled to twist and lift. She rolled too far and ended up face down in the water. Like a waterlogged beetle, her arms and legs flailed around trying to right herself. In frustration, she stood and turned back to the front. She tucked the damned noodle under her arms and was about to lift her legs when Nikki told them to bring their noodles back. At the edge of the pool, Barbara threw hers up onto the pile.

"Okay team," Nikki called out cheerfully, "let the fun begin."

Begin? Barbara groaned, wondering what implement of humiliation came next. "Running drills. Right, run for ten, rest for ten. Three, two, one, sprint."

Ten seconds of running did not seems too taxing.

"And again. Three, two, one, sprint."

Barbara ran as fast as she could, even if ACDC were urging her to run faster.

"Fifteen seconds."

Barbara was starting to feel puffed, but not unduly.

"Thirty seconds."

That was much harder.

"Three lots of sixty!"

Nikki moved with just positive energy in front of her that Barbara wanted to give up now. Her future in The Met was doomed. At the end of the first sixty seconds, she was panting like a steam train. At the end of the third set, she sounded like the Flying Scotsman on its record-breaking run to Edinburgh. Her face burned, and she pushed her face into the water to cool it.

"Side strides to the left. And... go!"

Barbara tried to orient herself. Nikki was moving up the side of the pool. Barbara looked yo her right as a woman the size of a baby elephant hurtled towards her. Ignoring the concept of striding, Barbara turned and tried to run through the water.

"And to the right."

The churned up water stilled before the class began to move the other way. This time Barbara managed to follow the move - right leg out to the side, drag the left to it. Repeat. "Well done," Nikki said waving at her.

After three more sets of different movements up and down the pool to the strains of Bowie and Jagger, Nikki changed the music. The Proclaimers crooned about sunshine and Nikki began to sway gently with the music waving her arms in front from side to side before lifting them in the air. "And stretch, gently, gently, to the side. Don't overdo it."

Barbara exhaled heavily, grateful that they were doing their cool down stretches. She hoped to slink away without having to speak to anyone. As they finished, she slid into the slipstream of the large woman beside her who was laughing and chatting with another woman. Barbara thought she had perfected her escape, but her embarrassment was not over. "Where's Barbara?" Nikki called out over the speaker system. "Come to the side, love, and I'll teach you how to tame your noodle."


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for your comments - yes, I am sure most of us can relate to something in this story.

* * *

Tommy was due to pick Barbara up at eight o'clock to drive to Canterbury where they had arranged to interview a witness who had a vital clue in their case. Unfortunately, spilling coffee on his shirt and heavy traffic had conspired to make him fifteen minutes late. As she opened the car door, he could tell his sergeant was not happy.

"Good morning, Barbara. Sorry I'm late, but the traffic was appalling."

"Whatever." Barbara buckled herself in without another word.

Tommy pulled out from the kerb. "I am sorry I couldn't ring you."

"No, heaven forbid you'd ever drive a car with handsfree or even a CD player. I'm surprised I don't need to walk in front with a red flag."

Tommy laughed despite his sergeant's fierce scowl. "Walking to Canterbury would help your fitness programme."

"Oh, for..." Barbara snorted, folded her arms and stared out of the passenger window.

"I'm sorry. It was a joke."

"Ha bloody ha."

"Barbara."

"Don't Barbara me in that suave tone of yours, Lord Asherton. I'm immune to your charms."

"I wasn't trying to be charming." Again he ignored her snort. "Maybe a little bit. I was mainly late because I spilt coffee on my white shirt. I had to change."

"I didn't have time for coffee. At least I thought I didn't."

"Sorry. I'll stop at the service centre on the M2, and we can both have one."

"Ta."

Barbara went back to looking out of the window. Tommy hoped he could talk her out of her mood. "Slept in then?"

"No."

This was going to be a long day if she kept this up. "From the case notes, it looks as if the officer who took Mrs Winter's statement thought she knew more than she was saying. Why come in three months later and then not tell the police everything?"

"Don't know."

"Do you think she might have seen the murder? Or just the van?"

"I didn't have time to read the notes."

"Oh. I see." Tommy was surprised. It was unlike Barbara to not prepare. He looked over at her while he waited for the lights. She shrugged at him. The anger in her eyes had faded into something more dangerous. Barbara was upset with herself not him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Whatever is bothering you. You look miserable."

"Thanks very much."

"Your expression is one of misery. Your appearance is far from miserable."

Barbara cocked her head to one side and frowned. "Does that even make sense? I look miserable, but I don't look miserable?"

Tommy felt his ears go red. "You look upset, but you are... still a very... good-looking woman." It was far from a declaration of never-ending love, but it was the first time he had told her he found her attractive. He glanced over to see how she was going to react. Her frown deepened, and she clearly disbelieved him. He wished they were standing somewhere so he could hold her, and kiss away her doubts.

"Huh! I told you, save the charm." There was just a hint of a curl at the edges of her mouth.

"So, are you going to tell me?"

"I didn't read the file because I booked into the local gym for an assessment. It was awful. I'm never going to get fit or lose the weight."

"Of course you will. What did they recommend?"

"Eating half of what I normally do and going there five times a week."

"After the first session or two, you'll enjoy it."

"I won't."

"How do you know until you try?"

"Because I tried this morning and it was..."

"Mmm?"

"Humiliating. I don't want to talk about it." Barbara pulled her hood over her head and leant it against the window. "Wake me when you get coffee."

Tommy knew Barbara was not asleep. When she slept in his car, she always emitted a little snoring noise when she breathed out. Today she was breathing silently. He contemplated trying to talk to her but decided she needed time to think. When she was ready, she would tell him.

He parked at the far end of the service centre carpark. Barbara made no attempt to fake waking up, so he walked over to the coffee van and ordered two large black coffees. When he returned, she was standing beside the car with her hood down. "One large coffee," he said as he handed it to her.

"Does it have sugar?"

"No, I have the sachets in my pocket."

"No thanks. I need to cut all unnecessary calories." She took a sip. "Urgh."

"I could go back and get some sweetener."

"No thanks. Chemicals are probably worse for me than sugar."

Tommy laughed. "They certainly taste much worse."

"Sorry I snapped at you."

"Don't worry about it. The test is stressing you. I understand."

"It's not the test. It's what might happen. I enjoy this. I like my job. I like being your partner. I don't want it to end this way."

"It won't. I'll help you."

"How? I went to aqua aerobics this morning. They want me to do three sessions a week, but I was hopeless."

He could see she was quickly becoming distressed again so put his arm around her shoulder. "It was only your first session."

"The instructor made me stay back for remedial noodle!"

"Remedial noodle?"

Barbara quickly explained what had happened. "Stop smiling! It's not bloody funny."

Tommy put his coffee on the bonnet and pulled her into a cuddle. The heat from her cup spread across his chest. He did not want to hug her too tightly in case he ruined another shirt. "I know, but the way you tell it. You must admit it is a bit funny."

Barbara tried to wriggle out of his grip. "You should have sympathy for me. Unless it doesn't matter to you if I fail."

Tommy pushed her back so he could look at her. "It matters, more than you think. I'm sorry that I found your story amusing, but I don't find the situation or what the worry is doing to you funny at all."

Barbara put her coffee next to his on the car and moved back towards him. Unsure how to react, Tommy waited. She looked at him then let her hands settle on his waist. She smiled up at him. "Thank you, Sir."

Just as he bent down to kiss her, she shuffled closer and buried her face in his shoulder seemingly oblivious to his intentions. He sighed and brought his arms around her. She felt warm. He lowered his head and inhaled the scent of citrus from her hair and held her as long as he dared.

"Sorry. We'll be late," she said, pushing away.

"I don't care. This is more important."

Barbara smiled at him in a way that made his heart stop and he pulled her back into his arms.

* * *

The day went slowly. Mrs Winters was at first reluctant to talk, but then warmed into a complete history of her life in Canterbury before finally revealing that she had seen the two men who had put what looked like a roll of carpet, but she now knew was her neighbour's body, into the van. The detectives spent time taking her statement and arranging for her to complete identikit pictures of the suspects.

"That was a long day," Barbara said as they drove past the cathedral en route to the motorway.

"It was. Should we stop for dinner somewhere? We only had coffee for lunch, and because of my clumsiness, I missed breakfast."

"I can't. I have to eat carrot sticks and celery. But I can sit while you eat."

"I'm not a sadist, Barbara. I can wait. I think you need more than carrots and celery."

"As they say, desperate times call for desperate measures."

Tommy looked across at her. "I have a suggestion. I don't want you to think I'm too forward in asking. I want to help you. Help us."

"Us? You don't need to lose weight."

"You haven't seen me without my shirt on."

"I have."

Barbara's words were followed by a strange, strangled noise deep in her throat. Tommy glanced over to see she had gone red. He smiled at the memory of flaunting himself in the shower knowing she had been watching him through the steamy glass. He also remembered their mutual embarrassment squeezing past each other in the caravan. Had he really been in love with her that long?

"Not lately. Anyway, Barbara, I have a proposal that at first might seem odd, but I assure you is honourable."

"Honourable?"

"That was perhaps a poor choice of words."

Barbara frowned at him. "The light's turned green."

Tommy crunched the gears then grimaced as he tried to focus on the traffic. "I was thinking today that exercise is always easier with a partner. I want to help. I was thinking that... Maybe if you... It might be easier if... I'd like you to..."

"Sir?"

"I have a small gym in my townhouse. I don't use it often, but we could use it together. That way we don't have to show our skills, or lack of them, to anyone else, and we can encourage each other."

"Thank you, Sir. That sounds... good."

Tommy took a deep breath. "I also think you should move in with me. It would make it much easier for you to use the gym."

"Move in? You mean live with you?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. As flatmates." He regretted adding that - it sounded as though he was limiting it to being platonic. He did not want any limits, he had been simply trying to impress upon her that he was not going to press her into anything she was not ready for. "You can have a choice of rooms. And we can cook meals that will help with your diet."

"But... what would Hillier think?"

"I don't care. I only care about making sure you can pass that test so we can stay together. And if you aren't coming to the pub and will be going to the gym, I... won't see you much. This way, well... it's the best of all worlds. Will you at least think about it?"

"What about my aqua aerobics?"

"We could both go if you want to. Did you join the gym?"

"No, I was on a try-before-you-buy package. Two free gym sessions and an aqua session."

"There's a private pool at my club that runs classes. We could go there. It is free to members and their partners and would be a much smaller group."

"Your club?"

Tommy felt her eyes burning into him. "I rarely go, but yes."

"And you think I'd be welcome at your club? Hardly, I'm not in their league."

"Yous are. It's not really that fancy. I just thought it would be nice to do it together somewhere quieter."

"And you won't laugh at me? Ever?"

"No, of course not."

Barbara ran her hand over her chin then took a deep breath. "Okay. Two weeks. If it's working, I'll stay. If not... then I don't know what I'll do."

Tommy beamed at her. "It'll work. I know it will. It will be good for both of us."

"I hope so - if you don't get us killed getting back to London."

Tommy refocussed on the road and pulled back into his lane. "I think this will be the solution to all our problems."

"Or the start of them," Barbara mumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

As she packed, Barbara wondered what on earth had possessed her to agree to move in with her boss. His eyes had won over her doubts. He had looked fearful and uncertain and yet also sure and hopeful. The threat of being forced apart by the test was affecting him too. She wanted to protect him and the only way to do that was pass the test.

She had never been able to label their relationship, but they were both prepared to fight hard keep it. Tommy wanted to help her and his loyalty touched her in complicated ways that she struggled to comprehend. She wanted his support. What she did not want was to risk having her less than platonic feelings for him exposed. Living with him would be a test of her resolve. She had already hugged him twice in two days after they had only really done that twice before in a decade. She wrote it off to their mutual fear of the future. They were reinforcing their need for each other, but it bordered on being dangerous for her. It was far too easy to imagine curling up with him on the sofa watching television. In her mind that was only one step from slipping into his bed. She smiled at the thought visualising the shock on his face if she tried.

"You look happy."

She had left the door unlatched for him and he had entered without her noticing. She jumped at the sound of his voice. "Huh? Oh hi. Sorry, I was just thinking about... Doesn't matter. Did Winston say anything about me not going back to the office?"

"No. I just said you had a prior engagement."

Barbara pointed to her suitcase and backpack. "Are you sure about this? I was wondering what your mother will think."

"Hopefully that I know my own mind and am grown up enough to choose who I ask to stay. Come on, it's late and I want to give you the full tour tonight so we can start our training programme in the morning." He picked up her bags and headed for the door.

"Yes, Coach."

* * *

Arriving at Tommy's townhouse and knowing she was staying for two weeks, made her nervous. Barbara knew the layout of the main level from their hours together discussing cases, but she had never been shown the whole house. Tommy opened the heavy black door and stepped inside. "Welcome to your new home."

Barbara's stomach flipped. _If only it was!_ "It's not permanent, Sir."

His ears turned red. "Your new home for the next three months. You never know, you might like Belgravia so much that you never want to leave. Anyway, we should do the grand tour. Let's start at the bottom and work our way up."

He left her bags in the long entrance hall and led her to a staircase. She carefully followed him down the flight of narrow stone steps with hollows in the centre worn by the feet of generations of rushing servants.

"This house has been in our family since Belgravia was developed in the 1820s and 30s. All these white townhouses around here were built by Thomas Cubitt. The whole estate was owned by the Duke of Westminster but over time some of the freeholds have become private."

"I always thought all the rich people owned them."

"No. The current Duke is the richest man in Britain. My father bought out our leasehold out in the late 1960s. It was an astute move." Tommy flicked on the lights in the hall. "The kitchen was, of course, down here originally when the cook used to do the meals. Father had it renovated when he took over because he liked the Howenstowe staff to be able to take a break when we were in London, and he and Mother wanted a more intimate house."

Barbara felt as if she was on a tour of a National Trust house "Intimate? It's huge. I thought it was just the entrance level and one above."

"Don't you look up, Barbara? There are six floors in all. The basement, the ground floor, then three levels for family living and the attic floor where the servant bedrooms used to be. I mainly use them for storage. A lot of the houses were too expensive to run so were subdivided into office and flats. We could afford to keep this one intact. Most of this street is residential. Some of the basements are sublet, I believe, but I've never bothered."

The corridor below was not as narrow as Barbara imagined. A light well on one side and windows at the front made it a pleasant area that would be surprisingly light during the day. "This is much nicer than I thought."

"Denton lives down here. He has a sitting room next to his private entrance and a bedroom and ensuite in what used to be the kitchen. I never go in to his rooms. He's away for the next week until after Easter, visiting his sister in Devon. On this side, behind that door is the plant room where I have the boiler and airconditioner." Tommy opened another door. "This is my cellar. It's quite well stocked at the moment, but we won't be tempted until we celebrate you passing your physical."

The room was larger than her bedroom. Racks of neatly stacked bottles lined three sides. She knew she was gawping, but she was only just starting to realise the true extent of Tommy's wealth. She was out of her depth and her fanciful notions that he might ever feel anything more than friendship were swept away. "I had no idea."

Tommy frowned as he switched off the light. "The gym is down here."

Barbara peered around him. There was a treadmill, a stationary bike, a selection of free weights and a four-station cable-weight machine. She could understand his offer. "Wow! This will be so much better than going to the gym."

"Plenty of room for both of us to work out together."

"What's that?"

Tommy turned to the glass door she was pointing at. "Oh, that's the sauna. Helps with sore muscles."

"What? No spa," she said sarcastically as she regained her composure. She could be friends with him as always. There was no wealth barrier to that but Barbara reminded herself to make sure she sat on a separate chair and made no attempts to cuddle him again so that she did not insult his generosity.

"I have one in my ensuite. You are welcome to use it any time."

Barbara blushed. "I was joking."

"I'm not." They stood in the doorway, their bodies only inches from each other. Tommy's eyes were smoky and Barbara stopped breathing. If she did not know better, she could mistake the way his gaze drifted down her body for something much more than friendship. For a moment she thought he intended to kiss her. Her imagination was running wild and she knew she would regret moving in. She was almost certain to let her guard slip and for him to see what a besotted fool hid behind it.

Tommy smiled then turned and pointed to another door. "That leads up to the garden, but you can access it from behind the kitchen."

"Do you have a big one?"

Tommy frowned at her then smiled wickedly. "More than adequate I think. It's not always size, Barbara, but how you use what you have."

Barbara opened her mouth to speak but only managed a garbled squeak. "Um."

"Tell me what you think of the size after you see it." He paused and flicked his eyebrows up twice in an imitation of Groucho Marx. Barbara felt her whole body going red. Tommy grinned, obviously pleased with her reaction. _Yes, touche, Tommy_.

"My father had a landscape gardener replant the garden around two feature plants. I think he made good use of the space." Tommy led her back to the stairs and up the entrance level that she had visited often. "As you know, that's the front reception room, these cupboards actually hide my pushbike, and..."

"You have a bicycle?"

"Yes, I rarely ride it these days."

"All these years I thought I knew you and today I discover I knew so little. A club, a bike, a much bigger house..."

"You sound disappointed."

So did Tommy. "No. Not disappointed. Shocked maybe."

Tommy put his arm around her shoulder. "You're not entirely open with me either. We will probably learn a lot about each other over the next few weeks. I think that's a good thing. It will... bring us closer."

Barbara's heart ricocheted around her chest. "Sir, I..."

Tommy raised his hand. "No. Don't say it. We're friends. We'll always be friends. Now let me show you the garden."

On the way through, Tommy showed Barbara his laundry and where mops and buckets were stored. She read between the lines that he did not expect her to be waited on by Denton. Not that she wanted that, but Tommy seemed to be going out of his way to ensure she knew she was his housemate, not a guest. So much for thinking he had wanted to kiss her.

"And this is the garden."

"Good heavens!" Barbara was stunned. Tommy had been right. Although it was only the six yard width of the house and about nine yards long, it was an oasis. Verdant lawn meandered around stone-edged flower beds with a display of spring flowers. Man-height hedges hid the walls, planted cleverly in an irregular pattern to break up the harshness of the confined space. A small timber bridge separated the yard into two distinct areas and drew her to the far corner. Under a spreading lime tree, a curved S-shaped seat sat in the grass. Barbara sat down to appreciate the view back to the house.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Tommy sat next to her and Barbara frowned because he was facing the other way. It was only then that she noticed that the curve made the seat a love-seat. It would have been so easy for her to kiss him. The cool concrete was a welcome relief as she felt her body warming yet again. These next weeks were going to be torture.

"Wonderful."

Barbara tried to ignore the proximity of his body and the gentle woody scent that was rising from it. She had not considered this well at all. _What will happen when he exercises and gets all hot and sweaty?_ The thought both thrilled and horrified her as she imagined herself leaning towards him and sniffing him.

She shook her head and looked around. A second tree grew near the rear wall of the house. Ivy grew around a large Grecian urn at its base then clung tenaciously to the wall for about four stories, it's tentacles reaching up to touch the windows above.

"I sometimes bring some whiskey out here at night and lie on the grass and look at the stars. I can pretend I am miles from London. I can imagine anything, be with anyone, escape my existence."

"Does it work?"

"In those moments my life can be perfect."

Barbara had never done anything like that. She glanced at Tommy, then at the grass, before crawling off the seat. Dampness seeped through her shirt, cooling her skin. Above the light pollution from the city, major stars pinpricked the velvet sky.

The man she adored smiled as he stood and came around to her. He lay down beside her and they stared up at the clear sky. Barbara did not dare look at him, even when the back of his hand came to rest next to hers.

"Well?" Tommy asked.

"You were right, Sir. It's perfect."

"Not quite. You should call me Tommy if you are going to live here."

Barbara sighed in resignation. It was silly to call him Sir as if she was a servant. Hang whether it made her want him more. At that moment she doubted that was possible. She look across at him. "It's perfect, Tommy."

His smile said everything.


	5. Chapter 5

Quite a few have commented on his house, especially the size. My interpretation of his house is based on the floorplans and photos (plus a generous dash of my imagination) of townhouses that have been listed for sale in the Eaton Square area of Belgravia. The size and style are in keeping. The TV series was inconsistent and downplayed his house. Perhaps the costs of shooting in Belgravia were too high.

* * *

"Are you cold?"

"A bit," Barbara admitted, although she was enjoying just lying watching the stars. With his hand resting against hers, the chaos and fear of the last few days dwindled to nothing.

Tommy leant up on his elbow and smiled. "Do you want something to eat before we continue the tour? Or would you prefer to settle into your room first?"

His eyes had a softness that tempted Barbara to pull him down and kiss him. This proximity was torture. "I'd like to see the house. I'm intrigued."

Tommy stood and offered her his hand. It was warm and comforting, just as his arms had been. She held it longer than was strictly necessary and he made no effort to pull away. "Come on then."

"Okay." Barbara reluctantly released him.

"Let's start with my bedroom suite."

"Yes." She had sounded too eager. "Er, that makes sense. Is it on the first floor?"

Tommy gave her one of his heart-stopping grins. "Yes."

Barbara trotted behind him as he strode through the house and up the flight of polished curved timber stairs. Two-thirds of the way up there was a landing, and Tommy turned towards the rear of the house. "This is my study. It overlooks the garden."

Stepping into the room, the must of old leather assaulted her nose. Timber shelves containing ancient knowledge and culture bound in red, brown and green lined the side walls. A surprisingly modern and comfortable-looking leather armchair sat beneath the canopy of a lamp that reminded her of a steel version of the old-fashioned dryers that hairdressers of her youth had used. Behind the reading nook, two of the bookcase shelves contained six crystal decanters of what she presumed was whiskey. Interestingly there was only one tumbler. This was his private oasis.

She walked over to the large, shiny mahogany desk that stood beneath the window. As she expected, its surface was uncluttered. She unconsciously fingered the green leather inlaid in its surface as she peered out at the garden. To her right, a computer monitor the size of her television brushed the thick golden curtain. In front of it was a closed laptop. She smiled at the Chelsea sticker Tommy had placed over the maker's logo. "So this is where you sit when you work?"

"Yes. I prefer this room when I'm alone."

Lined up along the edges lay the accoutrements of a modern office. There was a stapler, ruler, and quaintly, a fountain pen. Barbara picked it up and noticed the initials A T L.

"It was my father's. Alexander Thomas Lynley. I don't know why I use it. It has one of those old rubber bladders that leak."

Barbara gave him a warm, generous smile. "I think it's lovely that you do."

"Really?"

"Yes, why?"

"Helen thought it symbolised my failure to move on with my life and accept that I was the Earl."

Bloody self-righteous Helen. "Just because she was a psychologist, it doesn't mean she knew anything about people, especially you." Barbara winced. She had not intended to say that aloud.

Tommy smiled softly. "I told her that once or twice myself." He turned and left the room, calling back, "we had better continue our tour." Barbara put down the pen and hurried after him as he disappeared up four steps and marched towards the front room.

Barbara stood beside his bed and looked around. The walls were light grey, but below the white dado rail, they were darker. High, white gloss skirtings matched the two large window frames holding old glass which slightly distorted the view beyond. Ornate white cornices completed the simple but elegant look. Tommy's bed was large and dressed in white linen that from her vantage point looked to be of a thread-count far exceeding what she could ever hope to afford. Apart from the oak side table, which matched his bedhead and bedside tables, the only other furniture in the room was a large wing chair by the window overlooking the street. It was an impersonal room devoid of anything sentimental other than a few framed photographs of Helen and his family on the side table.

"Your room is beautiful."

"But?"

She smiled. "It doesn't feel like you live in it."

"I sleep here. It's functional. I have an ensuite through there and separate dressing room."

Remembering his offer for her to use his spa, Barbara opened the door and peered into his bathroom. The grey theme continued with light grey marble flooring and a feature wall in a darker shade that formed the rear of the huge, glassless shower. On the longest wall, two square hand basins sat atop a thick slab of the dark marble beneath a mirror that had embedded strip lights. On the opposite wall, frosted glass shielded what she presumed was the toilet. A large ovoid bath sat on a raised platform underneath the window, fed by a modern, freestanding tap that unobtrusively protruded over the side. Barbara walked over and ran her fingertips along the thick edges as she inspected the jets built into it. "How do they get the jets in a feature bath like this?"

"Ah, modern science. The pumps are hidden in the platform, and there are channels running through the tub itself. It looks solid, but it's not. Quiet ingenious really, and damned expensive. I bought it last year after... well, never mind."

Barbara noticed his shift in tone. "After?" she probed gently.

"In a fit of rage, I smashed the old one. I'd had a difficult weekend, and you weren't talking to me because I'd done or said something stupid. So I had far too much to drink, and the bathtub took the brunt of my anger. I bought this one to make me think twice about repeating my behaviour."

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

"Why?"

"Because I obviously wasn't there when you needed me."

"You're always there, aren't you?"

Not trusting her voice, she nodded. "Mmm."

"I just need to understand that I can't always have things on my terms, earl or not."

Now Barbara smiled. "Yeah, can I remind you of that?"

"I'm sure you will at some stage. So, what do you think of the house so far?"

"It's wonderful. If I lived here, I might never leave."

Tommy's face lit up with a broad smile. "You do live here now. Do you want a bath?"

Barbara glanced again at the tub and blushed. It was large enough for two, and she could imagine nestling back against him as they sat soaking. "Tempting, but..."

"It's always there."

"Thanks."

Back in his bedroom, Tommy dimmed the lights then flicked a switch. A modern gas fire ignited in the old converted fireplace. The room transformed from functional into romantic. Barbara looked up at him, wondering what was on his mind. "I had them installed in all the fireplaces a few years ago. Much safer and environmentally friendly, but they still provide atmosphere."

"It changes the room completely. It's..."

"Less functional?"

"Yes. Now it's a room for people to live and lo... it... You had better show me where I'll be sleeping."

As they left, Barbara took a last look at his bed and wondered which side he slept on and which could be hers.

"What are you grinning about?"

"Nothing." His eyes demanded a better answer. Barbara looked down. "I was just wondering which side you sleep on."

"Ah, for me to know, and you to find out."

They climbed another flight of stairs, brilliantly shined to bring out the texture of the walnut. There was no room at the rear on this level, and a large fixed window looked out over the terracotta roof below.

"You have the choice of two rooms. They are both somewhat similar, but I wouldn't pick the second one that I'll show you. It's painted yellow and has a smaller bathroom."

"Right, well that one is out. I insist on a bathroom just like yours."

The room on the second floor was the same size as Tommy's directly below. Barbara spun around taking it in. The room was painted in a soft, neutral cream which made it feel lighter and more feminine than his bedroom. Fresh white linen decorated with two gold brocade cushions dressed the bed which was smaller than Tommy's but still much larger than the one she slept in at home. A large table in carved oak stood against one wall, and chintz curtains hung at a window which looked over greenery on the street."It's huge. It has to be three times the size of my bedroom."

"This is where I usually put Mother."

"What if she wants to visit?"

"She can go upstairs and live with the yellow. She had it painted that colour originally."

"Why?"

"It was my bedroom when we stayed here. It was before Peter was born. Judith, being older, had this room."

"You hated the yellow."

"I did. Mother thought it made the room brighter and more cheerful. To me, it felt childish."

"And how old were you?"

"About six."

Barbara kept her lips together, but they still curled into a smile. "Oh, Sir, you've never changed."

He moved closer until they were only inches apart. His eyes were soft again as if he wanted to kiss her. "Tommy, remember?"

"Tommy."

"Do you want me to change?"

"No."

"Good, I don't want you to change either." He was looking at her with that same expression he had had that night when he had stayed at her flat. This time she hoped he might kiss her.

"Except I'm here to lose ten kilos in your gym."

Barbara immediately regretted her words. Tommy's face closed and he stepped away. "Of course. Well, I hope you like this room."

"It's perfect. Thank you."

"The room above is similar, just yellow if you'd prefer that."

"Where would prefer I stay?"

"I want you to have a choice, Barbara. I want you to feel equal here, not a guest."

She was tempted to ask how that was possible, but she knew he was trying hard to be welcoming. "I do, thank you."

"This is your bathroom." Barbara followed him to her bathroom. It was almost identical to the one below but had no bath.

"And through here is your wardrobe."

The dressing room was fitted out in dark wood. On the far wall, there was a mirror set between compartments for shoes and bags. On each side, neat spaces were dedicated to full hanging and half hanging racks. "This robe is bigger than my bedroom."

Tommy laughed. "I'd prefer it if you don't try to drag your bed in here." He put his arm around her shoulder. "Let me show you the yellow room and the attic."

Tommy's old bedroom was slightly smaller, and Barbara had a vision of him running around as a child. "I prefer the one below."

"Me too. You'll be closer to m... everything."

The stairs to the attic floor were beewaxed rather than varnished. The staircase was narrow and cheap wallpaper adorned the walls. Tommy showed her two of the rooms, barely large enough to contain a bed and a dresser. "Hard to imagine people were willing to live like this," Barbara observed.

"Many had no choice, and working as a servant was usually a better life than working in factories. My family have always had a reputation for looking after our employees and tenants."

"Yes, it's just... I think of generations of my family serving the needs of families like yours. This is where I belong, yet I can stay in a room downstairs. It doesn't seem fair."

"You don't belong here! I thought we were over all of that class nonsense. It's getting late. We should eat."

Barbara shook her head and groaned at her stupidity as he thumped down the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

Tommy woke before his alarm. He was still annoyed about the night before even though the evening had progressed well enough after their disagreement in the attic. They had been civil, even friendly, as they ate a steak and salad then sat talking about how to carve up the domestic chores equitably, but the underlying tenderness that had been there before had gone. Barbara complained of tiredness, and retired early, leaving him to sit in his study staring at his whisky, trying to decide how to proceed.

"One step forward, two back," he muttered as he thought about taking a shower. He struggled to understand why she insisted on highlighting their differences instead of focussing on the things that made them good for each other. "Stubborn, annoying, frustrating, intoxicating woman," he said, staring at the ceiling knowing she was sleeping above him.

After his shower, he carefully selected his outfit. Normally any old tee-shirt and his compression shorts would do, but today he pulled out an old Exeter College rowing singlet. He checked his appearance in the mirror. The shirt made his shoulders and arms look muscular, but the pants made him look like a dirty old man advertising his wares. He retrieved a baggy pair of shorts that fell almost to his knees and pulled them over the pants.

At exactly six thirty, he knocked loudly on her door. "Ready?"

"Yeah, give me a minute."

Tommy smiled at the thought of her scrambling madly to get dressed. It took her a few moments to open the door. Her hair was wild and uncombed, and her eyes were barely open. "I need coffee."

"Before we exercise?"

"They say you should stay hydrated."

"Coffee is a diuretic, so it is not hydrating."

"It also speeds up your metabolism. Lots of those sports drinks have caffeine."

"So-called sports drinks."

Barbara turned and looked at him. "I still want..." He saw her eyes wander across his chest and shoulders then down his torso. Tommy felt self-conscious as she scrutinised his body. She tried to hide a smile by biting her lower lip. "One. It'll only take a minute to heat up some powder in the microwave."

He grimaced at the thought. "I have an espresso machine. I will make you a decent coffee after we work out. Have you forgotten why you're here?"

"No." Barbara looked down.

His words had sounded harsh. He wanted her here for so much more than to prepare for that test, but now was not the time to confess the truth. "The gym awaits."

As she wandered into the hall, Tommy noticed she was wearing his old Chelsea shirt over blue lycra bike pants that clung to every glorious curve. Her body was more shapely than he had imagined. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, thankful that he had worn baggy shorts. Having her in his house was playing havoc with his self-control. "I recognise that shirt."

"You should. You gave it to me. Don't say you want it back, because I don't have anything else. Unless you want me to exercise in my underwear?"

He took a sharp, deep breath as he followed her down the stairs. "Yes. No. No, I don't want it back. Of course not. I have other shirts I can give you if you like." He was glad she could not see his face.

"I might take you up on that. They're quite comfy." She hit her rump. "Like me."

Barbara looked around the gym, then had a long drink from the water cooler that he kept in the corner. "How do we do this?"

"I was thinking we should start with taking your statistics to give us a starting point then testing how far you can run."

Barbara turned red. "You want to take my measurements?"

Tommy had just been thinking of height and weight, but the devil on his shoulder nudged him on. "Just the basic ones so you can see improvement."

Barbara sighed. "Promise not to laugh."

"Would it help if you took mine too?"

Her frown turned into a smile. "Yeah. Then we can both set new goals."

Tommy opened a drawer under the bench on the wall. It contained a tape measure and some workout charts. He fished around and found a pen. "Who's first?"

"I can do you if you like."

Tommy smiled. Oh, yes, do me. Please do me. He pushed the devil aside. "Fine."

Tommy stepped on the scales. They were a few pounds heavier than he remembered. Barbara could not reach to measure his height. "Just over 6'1".

"So, and a quarter?"

"A half."

"Right. Neck."

"Pardon?"

"I need to measure your neck."

"Oh." Barbara proceeded to wrap the tape around his neck. "Don't pull too hard, Havers."

"It is tempting, but you have to do this to me too, and after last night you have good reason to choke me. I was being ungrateful."

"I don't, and you weren't. Well, yes, you were, a little. I just wish you'd understand that where we were born, or into which family, doesn't define either of us or the future. Your ancestors would have wanted future generations to have better opportunities than they had, not languish in poverty or servitude. It's human nature. Your reverse snobbery prevents you from experiencing some of the better things that might come along."

Barbara looked as if she was about to argue, then hung her head. "I know, but..."

"No. No buts. I don't want to hear you say you don't belong or you're not worthy of anything again. Deal?"

He watched as she struggled not to argue. "Deal," she muttered.

"I don't want you to think it either. Now let's get on with the job at hand."

Barbara pulled the tape snugly around him. "Your neck is thicker than I expected. Lift your arms."

Tommy laughed. "Thicker? We haven't measured yours yet. Maybe we should measure our heads."

"Oh, hah ha. Stop laughing; your chest keeps moving."

Tommy laughed more as her hands rested under his armpits waiting for him. "I can't. It tickles."

Now Barbara's laugh joined his, finally relieving the tension from last night. When they recovered, she took his measurements. He enjoyed the sensations of her hands touching his skin as she ran the tape around his biceps and waist. Her eyes focussed only on the tape as if she was concentrating a little too hard. She hesitated when it came to his hips. He held his singlet up, exposing his navel. Barbara tried hard to disguise it, but she was staring at his groin. The more she stared, the more he had to fight against an untimely display of desire, grateful for the generous cut of his shorts and the tightness of his sports pants. "Well?"

"Oh, sorry." His red-faced sergeant took a quick measurement taking care to pull the tape together over his hip and away from his front.

He jumped when her hand moved between his thighs and pushed up the leg of his shorts. Her wrist almost brushed his family jewels. "What the..."

"Thigh measurement," she said hastily. "Sorry."

Her face was scarlet, but she had a sly smile which he answered with a wicked grin of his own. The movement may not have been entirely accidental. Last night, on the lawn, when she had looked at him, he thought he saw the same hooded desire. He had needed all his Eton manners to refrain from making love to her or at least kissing her in the hope she would want them to make love. His problem was that Barbara was unable to be open with him. Their argument in the attic had confirmed that despite everything they had shared she still seemed unable to believe he could ever love her. She was wrong. Barbara was his life. Without her, there was no meaning. Her eyes gave him hope that she reciprocated his feelings, but he also saw fear. He was determined to convince her to surrender to them, even if it took him the next three months.

She handed him the tape and stepped on the scales. She looked down and swore. The mischief in her eyes vaporised. "I'm heavier than yesterday."

"I'll soon work it off you." Barbara stared up at him and raised her eyebrows. Now it was his turn to blush. "On the treadmill."

He took his time collecting her measurements. Goosebumps rose on her skin as his fingertips daringly traversed her back and hips. He measured the dimensions of her thigh by slipping the tape between her knees and pulling it up, allowing his knuckles to run up the soft skin. Barbara gasped and held her breath until he was finished.

He looked up. "There that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No." Her voice was barely a whisper.

In a B-grade made-for-TV movie, this was the moment he would stand, pull her into his arms, kiss her and then make love to her on the weights bench. Instead, he made a sweeping gesture to his treadmill. "Let's see how far you can run."

"Not far."

Barbara stepped on, and he set the pace for the speed she needed to go to pass the test. "This is the test speed."

The treadmill quickly wound up to pace. "Bloody hell!"

Tommy climbed on the bike and began to pedal. "You can do it. Or you will be able to in a few months."

"You're trying to kill me. Revenge for last night."

"Quite the contrary, Barbara, quite the contrary. Do you have any specific plans for Easter?"

"Easter? No."

"You do know it's the day after tomorrow?"

"Yes. What are you doing? Going to Cornwall to see your mother?"

He shook his head. "There's a mountain in Scotland I've always wanted to climb."

Barbara's breathing was becoming more laboured and wheezy. "A mountain? Have fun."

"I thought you could join me."

"Me? Climbing? No. I'm too... unfit. No... mountains."

"Hmm. Then where else would you like to go?"

"Here. I'll housesit... and use this. Might... sit in... the... sauna... Melt some... fat off."

"If only it were that easy. I don't want to go anywhere without you. Is there anywhere else you would like to go?"

"No... Can't... talk... on... this..."

Tommy looked at his watch then across at her readout. "Keeping going, you're almost ten-percent of the way there."

"Ugh." Barbara then grunted what sounded like a schoolyard insult.

Tommy pedalled harder and let her catch her breath. She was struggling to continue. "Don't stop. If you're finding it hard, drop back the pace."

"Then I... won't pass."

"You're not doing the test today. You're training for it." He peered across at her information panel. "You've done over twenty-five percent at the right pace. Drop it back and see if you can run the rest."

Barbara punched the down arrow three times. The treadmill slowed, and she looked more comfortable. Over the next twenty minutes, she slowed it twice more. Sweat soaked her shirt which now clung to her front. Each time he looked across he had to focus on her face and not the slow bounce of her breasts. He gripped the bike handles tightly until his knuckles went white.

Finally, Barbara had enough and hit the stop button. The treadmill wound to a halt and she leant over with her hands on her knees. "Only a bit over four kilometres, and too slow. This is hopeless, Tommy."

He hopped off the bike and stood in front of her. "You did well. Tomorrow you can do the whole distance at a slower pace, and then we'll gradually increase it until you can do it slightly faster than you need to. Okay? Don't look so downhearted."

"Time for that coffee yet?"

"No. You still have weights to lift."

"Slave driver."

"I see myself more as an Egyptian pharaoh than a slave master."

"Oh, do you indeed? I suppose you want me to feed you dates and belly dance."

Tommy grinned at her. "Actually, that would be very entertaining."

He sidestepped, niftily avoiding the light punch she had intended for his arm. He pushed the button on the sauna. "Now, weights. Then I'll reward you with a nice rubdown in the sauna."


	7. Chapter 7

Barbara's eyes went wide as Tommy put his weights back in the rack and stripped off his singlet. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my shirt off." He bent down and removed his trainers and socks.

"I can see that. Why?"

"Because when I sweat in the sauna, I don't like the feel of a shirt sticking to my skin."

"You're not going to go full Viking are you?"

"Don't look so horrified. And what, pray tell, is full Viking?"

"You know. Like the Scandinavians do - sit around naked in saunas singing, then leaping into cold rivers."

Tommy's face contorted in a silent laugh. "Did you see a river running through my gym that perhaps I missed?"

"No, but..."

"And since when were saunas a Viking thing?"

"Aren't they? I imagine them heating their rocks over fires in tents made from the skins of slaughtered animals and then plunging in the river."

"Hmm, I can see that," Tommy said as he stroked his chin, "no doubt hitting the cold water taught them their war cry."

Barbara laughed at the thought. "Probably."

"I hate to break it to you, Barbara, but saunas were invented in Finland as bathhouses and they dug recesses into river banks, not skin tents. The Finns were not Vikings."

She snorted, and rolled her eyes. "I like my version better. I should go and have a shower." _A cold one!_

Tommy put his hand on her shoulder. "No, stay. I won't sing, and I promise I'll keep my shorts on. It'll do you good."

Barbara shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant. Her heart was pounding as she removed her shoes. "We'll be late for work."

"I'm the boss. I won't tell anyone." He held open the door for her. "Hop in before the heat escapes."

The pine-lined sauna was deceptively large. The upper and lower timber benches were long enough for a person to comfortably lie down. She sat stiffly on the the lower seat as her skin erupted in beads of sweat. Hot, dry air scalded her nose and throat with every breath.

Tommy sat on the higher rack and sniffed the air. "It's hotter up here."

"I'm fine down here thanks."

Tommy moved down onto the seat beside her and dribbled water over the hot rocks on top of the heater unit. A blast of steam rushed past her making her feel hotter, yet giving her lungs welcome humidity. He returned to his perch and reached down and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Relax."

Barbara groaned approvingly as he kneaded the knots in her shoulders. Soft fingers skimmed over her neck before his thumbs found an acupressure point that made her fingers tingle. She allowed her forehead to sag into his palm as he moved her neck to access the tight muscle that ran down the left side of her neck. "Better?"

"Oh, yeah. You're good at this."

"One of my hidden talents."

"Not hidden any more. You do realise I will expect this whenever I have a sore neck."

"Happily. Now lie down and roll over so I can rub your legs."

Barbara knew her face was red from exertion and heat but still felt her skin blush. "They're fine."

"I insist. It will work the lactic acid out of your muscles so you recover faster."

Barbara tentatively lay down. She jumped when a warm hand encased her ankle. Tommy's other hand gently rotated her foot. "Oh boy."

"Barbara?"

"No, keep going, that's... good."

Tommy laughed softly as he moved to her other foot. "Did you think I would try to hurt you?"

"No."

"Just lie quietly. Relax your mind and your muscles."

 _How the hell do I do that with you running your hands up my calves?_ "Mmm."

Tommy's thumbs pressed firmly as they traced lines up her calves, stopping abruptly at her knees. "Are you tight anywhere?"

What the hell do you think with you doing that? "Yes, a bit."

"Where?"

"Further up," she muttered, almost hoping he could not hear her.

"Yes, hamstrings are notorious. We'll do some stretches once we get outside."

"Bloody hell!"

His hands moved away. "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No. I just wasn't expecting that." His thumbs had dug a firm line up both legs from her knees to her waist before his hands rested lightly on her backside.

"I... it was..."

Barbara turned her head and smiled at him. "Sorry, Tommy. It felt good. I just didn't know you were going to do that."

His warm smooth hands returned to the back of her knees. They hesitated before repeating their journey over her bike pants. Barbara closed her eyes and surrendered to the feeling, imagining him doing it for an entirely different purpose when they were naked. _How will I survive twelve weeks of this?_

"Roll over."

Barbara spun carefully on the narrow seat. Tommy smiled down at her as he began to run his hands over her lower legs. His eyes never left her face and Barbara could not hide her contentment.

"Quads?" This time he was asking permission.

"Please."

Tommy's hands seemed strong and confident as they stroked her, using the heels of his hands in a scooping motion to release the tension in her muscles. She watched his face. He was concentrating, but every now and then he closed them as if to hide his thoughts. When he opened them, the earlier playfulness had gone and the tenderness they had shared in the garden returned. When he lifted his hands, Barbara reached out and took them, guiding them back down to rest on her thighs. For several moments they simply smiled at each other.

The beep of the sauna alarm broke the spell. Barbara had been sure he was about to lean down and kiss her. She had wanted that, and more. "We're cooked," he said as he pulled away and opened the door.

Barbara sat up then followed him out into the coolness of the gym. She expected him to sweep her into his arms. Instead, he fetched a cup of water from the cooler. The loud burbling as the air bubble chugged to the top of the upturned bottle was the only sound in the room.

Tommy took two sips then handed her the cup. "Rehydration before I make you that coffee."

* * *

Barbara scurried into the office while Tommy parked the car. They were late, but had agreed to just pretend everything was normal.

Winston looked up and smiled. "Afternoon."

"Cheeky sod."

"I've been over the notes from my interview with Mrs Risdon."

"Good. Anything interesting?"

Winston sniggered. "Oh I learnt a lot. Not much about the case though."

"What are you talking about?"

"I called around to your place last night to talk about it but you were out."

"Yeah, I was."

"Mrs Surat was walking her Pomeranian."

Barbara's heart quickened. Mrs Surat was the biggest gossip in the flats. "Yeah, yappy little thing."

"She told me you had gone away."

Barbara stared at her PC monitor trying hard to look completely disinterested in Nkata's conversation. "Really? I'm still in London, as you can see."

Winston wheeled his chair over next to hers. "She said that you told Mr Farouk that you were going to move in with a friend for a few weeks. And that a man carried two bags out and put them in his boot. That plummy one who's always hanging around, she said. And what were her words? Oh, yes. The one with the old maroon car. So give, Barbara. Are you and the DI finally...?" Winston curled his fingers and pumped the heel of his hand forward and back.

"No! We aren't. And don't make that gesture. It's crude." Barbara felt dirty. In one jokey conversation, Winston had made something quite beautiful sound tawdry. "And what do you mean, finally?"

"Sorry, Barbara. I just thought that you and the DI must have finally worked out that you should be together. I was happy for you."

Barbara sighed. "Thanks, but it's not like that. He has a gym in his basement. I'm staying there for a few weeks to try and get fit enough to pass my physical assessment. I have my own room and bathroom. We just share a kitchen and the gym."

Winston leant in closer. "Maybe for now. Give him a chance, Barbara. He won't make a move unless he knows you it want it too, so a few hints wouldn't hurt. You're both so scared you'll lose your friend, that you won't take a chance on having so much more. He adores you. And you know how you feel about him. So..."

"Good morning, Winston. How did you go with Mrs Risdon?"

Barbara and Winston both jumped. "Fine, Sir."

"Good. Come and brief me in five minutes. Barbara, can I have a word in my office?"

She followed him in, trying to find a way to explain what Winston had said. Tommy closed the door and gestured to the chair.

Barbara put her hands on the back of the chair and watched Tommy as he walked around his desk. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Who?"

"Winston."

Tommy frowned at her. "He's a good detective."

"Yes, but..."

"Are you doubting his judgement?"

"In this, yes. I know you'd never feel that way."

"What way?"

"What Winston said."

"About Mrs Risdon?"

"No, about us."

"What did Nkata say to you?" Tommy sat up straighter in his seat.

"You didn't hear him?"

"No. What did he say, Barbara?"

"Nothing. Nothing bad. He was just speculating."

"Well he should stop. Our life is not his concern. Last week he tried to persuade me to start dating again. He was trying to set me up with someone to go to the cinema."

Now Barbara frowned, remembering last week when Winston had invited her to go on a blind date to the movies. She turned and stared through the glass windows at Winston's desk. "Sneaky little devil."

"Anyway, I was wasn't interested in being set up. I prefer to select my own dates. I know what I want in a woman."

"Legs, sparkling personality..."

"No. Someone who sees through the title and the money and likes me for who I am." He grinned at her in the way she had only ever seen him smile at her. She nodded.

Tommy walked around the desk and stood in front of her. "I was thinking that we should tell Hillier that you've moved in with me."

Barbara gaped at the alien inhabiting the body of her boss. "Why?"

"In case he hears from someone else and assumes something... inappropriate."

"He'd never think... No one would ever think that... Not with you and me. You'd never..."

Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Wouldn't I?"

"No."

Tommy smiled softly. "You know my reputation."

"Yes, but... No one would ever believe..." But Winston had. Maybe others would too. "Yes. We should tell Hillier. At least then he'll know I'm serious about keeping my job."

"And we're serious about not being split up by bureaucracy." Tommy smiled at her. "I'll tell Radio Winston too. He'll put paid to any unwanted speculation. I'll talk to him now, then we'll go to Hillier."


	8. Chapter 8

I have been asked if I am trying to out-Tess Tess by finding small ways to keep them apart. Hmm, I would never seek to defeat the Mistress at her own game, but maybe subconsciously...

* * *

As they ate breakfast, Tommy handed Barbara an A4 printout. "What's this?"

"Our schedule for the next week."

Unable to sleep, Tommy had spent the early hours of the morning researching exercise routines. He was happy that he had the right mixture of fun and effort that they could enjoy together.

Barbara's frown deepened as she read over it. "Thanks for letting me sleep in until eight on Easter Sunday. And what does Adventure Day tomorrow mean exactly?"

He ignored her sarcasm. "I have something adventurous in mind."

"How adventurous?"

"Safe but calorie burning. And don't look at me like that. I have no intention of telling you."

Barbara mumbled something as she bit into her one piece of toast that she was allowed to consume for the day. Tommy smiled as she scanned the list, her eyes showing her surprise and amusement.

"Boxing?"

"There's some gloves and bags in the attic. I thought I could set them up."

She looked at him through squinting eyes. "Right now there's only one person I want to punch."

"Good. Channel that aggression. At Eton, we used to tape photocopies of our masters into the bags. We could tape Hillier on for you."

"You're on, although he was surprisingly supportive yesterday."

"He was worried he might lose his best detective team."

"Half of it anyway."

"All of it. Nothing changes. If you go, I go."

Barbara ran her hand from the back of her neck to the front. "Don't say that. You saw my time this morning. I need to lose ten minutes. That's huge, and if I don't pass, then I'll have ruined two lives."

"No. My career means nothing in comparison to our friendship. I couldn't do the job if you weren't beside me."

"Me either, Tommy."

"So, if you fail we could always do something else together."

She smiled at him. "Oh, yes. I can see it now. We could set up a private detective agency - Lynley and Havers, specialists in locating lost dogs."

"Woof."

Barbara laughed then reached over and ruffled his hair. "Good boy."

Tommy's soul lifted when she laughed. It was such a happy, open expression of joy and one he had seen too rarely over the years. She had only been in his house two days, but already he could not remember what life had been without her. He leant forward across the bench until his face was only inches from hers. "I like having you here."

She did not move away, instead gravitating towards him. "I like being here."

Her lips were so close and looked so kissable. Tommy closed his eyes then pulled away. "Good. Now hurry up and get ready for work. We can't be late again now Hillier and Winston know we are co-habiting."

* * *

The day flashed past with three witness interviews; lunch with his mentee, a young constable from Traffic who had the personality of a traffic camera; and a budget meeting for the Police Youth Centre, a charity for which Tommy was on the board. He caught up with Barbara just before five, and they walked to his car. "I'd usually say let's go to the pub, but for the sake of calories, we should probably go home," he said as he opened the door to the carpark.

"Yeah. What are you torturing with me tonight? Running? Bike sprints?"

"Tonight is a rest night. I'm torturing you with dinner and a show."

"Show?"

"I booked tickets for a West End play."

"Why?"

Tommy stopped walking. His shoulders sagged, and he slouched against the concrete column beside his car. "As a treat. We don't have to go if you don't fancy it."

"No, I'd like to." Barbara found his hand and gently squeezed it. "I just... well, I didn't expect you to be such a generous host. Thank you, Tommy. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful."

She started to pull her hand away, but he held it firmly and turned so her back was against the pillar. "I'm not being polite for a visitor. I want to enjoy time with you because you are my... friend."

"Yes, I am." Barbara looked up at him. Her eyes were soft and inviting. Tommy slowly lowered his head.

"Night, Sir, Sarge. Have a happy Easter."

Tommy pulled away and waved. "Same to you, Gunston." He turned back to Barbara, but she had moved to the passenger side of the car.

* * *

As he showered and changed, Tommy decided that tonight he would kiss her. It was long overdue, and he was sure that Barbara reciprocated his feelings to some extent. The issue was what extent. Every time he had come close, his courage had wavered. Doubts about his ability to be the man she needed him to be intruded. He wanted everything to be perfect and for Barbara to love him back the way he loved her. His biggest fear was that she might not.

He only stopped staring at his eyes in the mirror when he heard a soft knock on his door. He opened it to find Barbara standing there looking angry. "What's wrong?"

She turned around and bent down. Her trousers had split up the seam, and he could see a thin line of white. "I'm too fat to take out. These are the only decent trousers that fit me, and look!"

Tommy closed his eyes as decidedly carnal thoughts tempted him to reach out and touch her. "Unfortunate, but you don't have to dress up. It's not the opera. Any of your work trousers or even jeans will be fine."

"You can open your eyes."

He did and found her smiling at him. "Sorry to subject you to that sight."

"I enj... No problem."

"I'll be back in five minutes."

Tommy closed his door and silently banged his head against it.

Ten minutes later, he held the door of the cab open. He climbed in beside her and gave the driver an address close to the theatre. "I thought we could try something other than steak and chips."

"Let me guess cabbage and lentils?"

Tommy laughed, more at her pout than her words. "No, this restaurant specialises in Mongolian food."

Barbara's expression rapidly changed. "Sounds like fun."

"I hope so."

The streets were crowded and the cab had to drop them on the corner. Tommy stayed close to her back as they wove through a throng of Chinese tourists spread across the footpath behind a bouncing flag held high on a pole.

Tommy found the door to the restaurant. "Ah, good. At last. I never thought we'd get through that lot."

"Where's the door?"

Tommy lifted a long flap of soft leather. "Right here."

"Sain uu." A stocky man greeted them with a reverent nod. His blue padded robe gaped open as he bowed. He tightened the orange sash around his waist then turned to escort them to their table. His thick untanned leather boots scuffed across the dirt floor as he led them to a low table at the rear of the dark, warm room.

"This is incredible," Barbara said as lowered herself to sit on the fluffy silk cushions. "Are they skins?"

"Yes." Tommy looked at the hides that were stretched taut in a curve to the roof. "It's modelled on a ger."

"Ger?"

"A Mongolian circular tent."

"I thought they were called yurts?"

As he tried to manipulate his legs under the low table, Tommy fell onto the cushion beside her. "Yurt is a Turkic term. The Mongols call them gers."

Barbara raised her eyebrows. "The many benefits of a liberal education."

The man in the traditional dress of the steppes returned. He poured them a glass of water and a shot glass of clear liquid. Ominously, he left the bottle on the table. "Your banquet will commence after your private blessing. Please drink," he said before he turned and shuffled away.

Tommy raised his glass. "Cheers, Barbara. Here's to an enjoyable Easter."

"Cheers." She took a sip of the liquid. Her eyes went wide. "Whoa! Firewater."

Tommy took a sip. It was vodka, but a very raw one. "You're right. I don't think I'll have too many of these."

"Do you come here often?"

"First time. I read about it in the Times supplement a few weeks ago and wanted to bring you here."

"Me? A few weeks ago?"

He took another sip. "I bought the tickets for the play a while ago. I was going to surprise you."

"You managed that."

He looked for a sign from her, but it was too dark to read her eyes. "Are you angry?"

"No. No, Tommy, this is... I don't know. It's like we've entered an entirely different world. I guess that's the theme for my life this week."

"New and different doesn't have to be bad."

"No, it doesn't."

The waiter returned with the first dish, a platter of different dumplings. Some were steamed, others were fried, but they all contained lamb and onion and various spices. Tommy watched Barbara eat hungrily. "Save space for your main meal."

Barbara looked at the large dumpling in her fingers. "I do need to eat less, don't I?"

He regretted his words. "No, tonight is your cheat night. Have whatever you desire."

She turned to him and held up the dumpling. Tommy frowned then realised she wanted him to eat it. He leant forward as her hand moved towards him. He cautiously took a bite and chewed quickly. Her hand stayed close to his face. She was smiling at him. When he took the rest of the dumpling, his lips closed around her fingers and dragged the food from them. Her eyes closed and she exhaled in a slow, almost inaudible sigh.

He moved closer to her. Barbara shifted her weight to meet him but overbalanced and tumbled off her cushion. The hand she extended out to brace her fall landed on his knee. Her elbow buckled, and she landed face first in his lap. Tommy tried not to move. Her cheek was resting against the fly of his trousers, and her hot breath filtered through the cloth and tickled his nethers.

Barbara also seemed to freeze. The longer she stayed there, the more he feared that his mind would fail to overrule his body's reaction. She moved her cheek closer, and he emitted a little whimper that he hoped she had not heard. His body was beginning to win. He grabbed her shoulders and gently pulled her free.

He expected the moment to be mortifyingly embarrassing for both of them, but as Barbara re-balanced on her cushion and they looked at each other, they both began to laugh. Tommy poured more vodka. They saluted the incident by clinking their glasses together before downing the fire in one shot.

The rest of the meal was uneventful. A mutton soup with vegetables preceded a spicy rice dish that their host informed them was goat roasted with hot stones. Dessert was simple fried butter biscuits drizzled with honey and accompanied by a bubbly white liquid. "By law, we must use cow's milk only," the waiter said apologetically, "so the taste is weaker than traditional airag."

"What milk do they usually use?" Barbara asked.

"Airag is fermented mare's milk. They milk the horse and then leave the milk for several days."

Barbara pushed her glass away. "I'll stick to the firewater."


	9. Chapter 9

The theatre was a three-minute walk from the restaurant. Tommy debated whether he should take her hand. Being unsure, he put his arm around her shoulders as he had done on many previous occasions. Twenty paces down the road, his trousers tugged as Barbara's hand gripped his belt in the small of his back. It was the closest she had come to ever putting her arm around him, and Tommy's heart skipped three beats as he neglected to breathe.

He had selected good seats but had deliberately avoided buying front row in the dress circle. He was making an effort to be ordinary, or as ordinary as he could ever be. The seats were three rows back and looked down across the stage without seeing the audience in the stalls.

"Reasonable view," he said as they squeezed past a long-haired man in fashionably tight black jeans whose knobbly legs would not have been misplaced on a baby giraffe.

"Yes, but I'm surprised they're not front row."

A knot formed in his stomach. "You're disappointed."

She shook her head. "No, not at all. I was just tormenting you, Lord Asherton."

"In more ways than one," he muttered.

"What's the play about?" Barbara asked as Tommy checked the number on his ticket with the small gold plate pinned to the front of the fold-up seat.

"It's a political satire about Thatcher's Britain."

"And you thought I'd like it?"

"Oh, I think you will." Tommy had heard the uproar in his club about the play which mercilessly highlighted the hypocrisy and affectations of the aristocratic classes. It seemed very apt. He assumed some parts might be uncomfortable for him, but he hoped Barbara enjoyed it and could see he was not above laughing at that part of his life.

As Barbara sat, air extruded from the saggy leather seat in a soft farting noise. She turned red and looked around. A woman in her sixties who was trying to dress like someone a third of her age tutted loudly and glared at Barbara over the top of her diamanté encrusted gold glasses.

"That was the seat, not me."

Tommy tried to look stern and disapproving as he sat down silently and looked over at the woman next to Barbara. He shrugged. "She says that every time we eat McDonalds before a show."

"Thomas Lynley!"

He accepted the whack she gave to his thigh with a grin. "The lady understands it's an old theatre. She also knows I was only joking. As if you'd eat McDonalds, darling." He leant across Barbara. "I was only trying to embarrass her. All couples need their fun," he said switching to debonair earl mode.

The woman inhaled. Her overly large chest stretched her shiny lamé blouse as she thrust it towards Tommy. "Oh, you're such a naughty boy."

Tommy shrugged again as he smiled then looked at Barbara. The woman continued to titter and fuss as she openly flirted with him. He decided to play it up. "You don't mind me being naughty, do you darling?"

Barbara pursed her lips. Tommy wondered if he had taken the joke too far. "Of course not, darling." Her endearment was syrupy and as insincere as anything Tommy had heard her say.

The woman's gnarly talons, streaked red by glittered nail varnish, gripped her arm. "Oh, my dear, you have a gorgeous husband."

"Oh, she's not my wife." Yet. Maybe one day. Tommy was trying to be honest, but Barbara raised then lowered her eyebrows.

"Oh no, his wife is away. I'm just his bit on the side," she said with an innocent smile.

For a moment the woman sat with her mouth ajar. Tommy wanted to reach over and push it shut. He glared at Barbara who smiled smugly back at him.

"Touché, Barbara."

Havers grinned at him. "You're welcome."

The woman laughed. "Oh, I knew you were a wag, young man. Of course, she's your wife! I can tell by the way you look at each other. Just like I used to with our Arthur before he died."

Tommy bowed his head in quick acknowledgement. "We can't fool this lovely lady, darling."

Barbara smiled then leant over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm going to kill you... darling," she snarled into his ear.

Lynley sat back in his seat with the broadest of grins. Even if she was genuinely angry, he knew by interval he would be forgiven. In the meantime, he intended to enjoy the hole that was burning into his face from her lips.

As the lights dimmed, Barbara sat stiffly facing the stage and avoiding contact with the woman beside her who was now discussing the awkward positioning of one of the stage lights with a nervous man in the seat in front of her. Tommy pushed his arm against Barbara's and curled his fingers over the end of the high armrest. She steadfastly refused to acknowledge his gentle nudges. He thought about taking her hand but feared a scene. It was possible she was as angry as she seemed to be feigning. Tommy ran the outside of his pinkie along hers then allowed the tip to wander over her knuckle and wedge between her fingers. He wrapped his finger around hers and waited. Without acknowledging him in any way, she curled her pinkie over and locked them together. Tommy sighed happily, then noticed Barbara smirk.

Although he watched the play, Tommy spent more time looking at the woman now holding his finger. He studied the way her head tilted as she thought deeply, and the fall of her hair when she tossed her head back to laugh. She glanced over at him often; each time giving him a generous and genuine smile. Never had he wanted to kiss someone so much, but he knew if he tried here it would be the sort of display that would have him banned from the West End for life.

Before the interval, the holding of one finger had moved to two, three and finally the whole hand. It felt like progress. Barbara's palm was warm and yielded to his as if they were both waxes that had melted together. His cheek still tingled from her kiss, and he wanted to feel that sensation on his lips, his face, the skin on his throat. He groaned loudly in one of the few gaps in the consistent patter of the play. Barbara and the diamonté dragon both looked across and frowned. "Typical poncy aristocrats," he mumbled, flicking his free hand towards the stage and hoping it excused his noises sufficiently.

Barbara laughed and squeezed his hand. "Can't trust them, that's for sure."

He moved his face close to hers. "You can trust me... if you let yourself."

* * *

The play ended to thunderous applause. "Thank you, Tommy. I really enjoyed that," she said as the house lights came up after the third ovation.

"Me too." He leant close to her ear and whispered, "let's go this way so that we can avoid your new friend."

Tommy took Barbara's hand and led her to the exit. He could still excuse it as a safety precaution as they walked down the stairs, but once out of the theatre there was no reason to hold it other than the obvious, but he refused to let go. "Do you fancy a pint?"

"Yes, but it has too many calories. Besides, you want me up and dressed by six o'clock. I think we should call it a night."

"It's a lovely evening, should we walk?"

Barbara made no attempt to wriggle her hand free. If anything her grip was firmer now that they were walking. "Part of my exercise programme?"

"Not really, but it won't hurt. We'd be home almost as quickly as we would be after queuing for a cab. We are driving through all the time, but we don't get to enjoy the city that much."

"A walk would be nice."

They joined the throng of laughing people pouring from theatres and funnelling onto Charing Cross Road. Likes ants in a disturbed mound, people darted in hundreds of directions across Trafalgar Square. Tourists snapped photos of the National Gallery, lovers kissed by the majestic lions, and a group of drunken partygoers congaed around the fountains.

People melted away as they went through Admiralty Arch and onto The Mall. A few couples emerged from St James's Park, but apart from a few cabs, the noise of the city faded behind them. Barbara looked around as they walked. "This is such an iconic part of London, but at night it seems almost magical."

"It is."

"I always think the road looks like a red carpet leading to the palace. And the trees, all lined up look like soldiers holding the flags ready for a parade."

"It's the bark."

"Eh?"

"The bark of the London plane tree peels away at different stages, so the colours look like camouflage uniforms. Subliminally they remind you of soldiers, and because they are planted at regular intervals, and the Union Jacks hang down, it reinforces the image of soldiers holding them for a ceremony. City officials coloured the tarmac red in the 1950s for exactly the reason you suggested. It was to improve the pomp with the use of coloured film for newsreels and television, so a red carpet leading to the palace was visually significant."

Barbara shook her head and stopped walking. "For once, Lord Asherton, forget your logic and just enjoy the moment." She put her hand on his chest. "Free what's in here and just be Tommy."

He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. "What if being a poncy, know-it-all Earl is who I am?"

"That's only a part of you, Tommy. I've seen more, much more."

Unconsciously they had turned to face each other. Their hands were still clasped together her palm remained pressed over his thumping heart. His other arm went around her back and pulled her close. Even in the dull yellow street light, her eyes shone like emeralds on a crown. Her soft sigh drew him to her like the sweet voice of a Siren. He slowly lowered his head towards her waiting lips.

"Oi, none of that here please, Sir. There's no canoodling permitted on The Mall."

Tommy stopped just an inch from her face. Her breath tickled his nose. He turned angrily to see two policemen mounted on impressive chestnut horses. Tommy felt his face flush red as he and Barbara instantly released each other and stepped apart. "My apologies, officer."

The older man looked down and shrugged. "Queen's rules. Sorry mate, but I guess the old girl doesn't want to wander onto her balcony at night and see people snogging all the way up and down her driveway."

Tommy raised his eyebrows but decided against producing his warrant card and making excuses. He reached out and gently rubbed the muzzle of the horse that was sniffing at him as if searching for a hidden treat of sugar or a carrot. "Of course."

"Good night then Sir, Madam." The officer touched the peak of his helmet then turned and clopped off. Tommy could not quite hear the comment the other officer made that made them both snigger.

Tommy and Barbara turned to each other and laughed. "That would have been embarrassing if we'd been arrested for canoodling," Barbara said before she turned and ran ahead of him. "Come on, M'Lord, let's see if her maj was watching."

Her words shocked him, and he paused before seeing her dance up The Mall towards the Victoria Memorial. Her laughter filled the air.

"Wait for me!"


	10. Chapter 10

"Should we?" Laughing, Barbara stood on the steps of the Victoria Memorial and pointed to the pool that sat beneath the statue.

Tommy shook his head. "Most definitely not! If Her Maj doesn't like people snogging on her driveway, she will probably have people who use her fountain as a foot bath locked up in the Tower with the key thrown into the Thames."

"Spoilsport."

"Probably. Blame my poncy upbringing and long-held belief that one's head is best placed on one's neck and not in the wicker basket beneath the block."

"Unlike my rebellious breeding and live fast, die hard attitude."

"Yes, a side of you I am only just discovering tonight." Tommy moved up the steps until his eyes were level with hers. "And one I am enjoying."

Barbara waited for him to kiss her. She had seen that look only once before, on the night he had stayed at her flat. At the time she had called it friendship, maybe even love, but now it had a undertone of carnality that she knew was mirrored in her expression. He closed his eyes then opened them slowly as his face drifted towards glanced sideways at the palace then up at Queen Victoria, sitting staring over the red carpet of The Mall. He stopped. "There's a light on. She's probably watching us."

She raised her hands to push him backwards over the wall into the water. Tommy was too quick and sidestepped her. "Why you."

"Now, now. Weren't you tired and wanting to get to bed?"

Barbara scowled at him. "Yes, Dad."

Tommy reached out and took her hand. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her after all. "Come on then."

As they neared Belgravia, Barbara began to worry about Tommy's behaviour. Why had he not kissed her when they were alone? They both knew the fear of being caught was only a joke. Then she thought about his words. Weren't you tired and wanting to get to bed? That could so easily mean his bed, with him. The evening had been wonderful, better than even her wildest dreams. Now she fretted that their flirting and playfulness might have raised Tommy's expectations. Was she ready to go to bed with him? She had somehow imagined they would kiss and drift back to their own rooms where they would lie in their beds and dream about how perfect it had been. Reality was not like that. They were adults, not teenagers, and Tommy would, rightly probably, expect it to lead to sex.

In a less sober state, she might jump at it, but without dutch courage flowing through her veins, she was scared. Her body was hardly that of a model and her experience was too limited to make up for any bodily shortfalls with technique. Her only other encounter had been a drunken, quick, lie-back-and-think-of-England missionary invasion, perpetrated by a man who had bitten her shoulder trying to get better leverage.

With Tommy, Barbara wanted rainbows and fireworks during a slow and tender exploration of each other. Female officers who had slept with him in years gone by praised his technique and his ability to make them feel alive, but all agreed it felt impersonal from his side, as if they were not satisfying his deepest needs. Barbara wanted to find that place and be the person who could sate his needs - if only she knew how. She sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just tired." They rounded the corner into his street and her heart began to imitate Keith Moon, thrashing wildly in her chest.

"Here we are. Home again." Tommy let her step inside first. His hand rested on the small of her back. She wanted to run straight to her room and bolt the door.

"Thank you for a fantastic evening," she said, hoping it indicated it was over.

Tommy beamed at her. "You're welcome. I enjoyed it too."

He did not appear to have taken the hint. That look remained in his eyes. "Still six in the morning?"

"Yes. I can't delay it because... well, you'll see."

Barbara looked at her watch. "Almost midnight. I should get some beauty sleep."

"Of course." Tommy's eyebrows lowered a fraction. No one else would have noticed but Barbara did. She knew he understood her meaning now and was confused by her sudden coldness.

He looked do adorable, like a Labrador pup just scolded for running through the house and leaping up on his owner when all it wanted to do was be loved. How could she resist him? She reached up and grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him towards her. Avoiding his lips, she gave him a long kiss on his cheek. His arms rested together in the small of her back, his fingertips softly brushing back and forth over the base of her spine. Barbara wanted to pull him onto the floor, but her fear nagged at her. "Goodnight, Tommy. It was a perfect evening."

Tommy kept her in his arms but leant back and scrutinised her face. She willed herself not to look away. He smiled. "It was."

He moved towards her and she stiffened waiting for his lips. Like her, he kissed her cheek and she sighed and let her arms drift around to hold him close. He rested his head on hers and she buried her face in his chest. For those moments, the world balanced perfectly. Barbara felt at peace for the first time since she had been a child.

Tommy softly kissed the top of her head. "Goodnight, Barbara. Let me escort you to your room."

"A true gentleman."

Tommy put his arm around her shoulder as they headed for the stairs. "Of course."

* * *

Barbara woke to the trill of a distant alarm sound and remembered she had forgotten to set hers. She opened one eye and groaned. It was 5:45 am and she had to be ready in fifteen minutes. The alarm must have come from Tommy's room below.

She savoured one more minute under her duvet before rising. She had just finishing tying her shoes when Tommy knocked on her door. "Come in."

He opened the door and poked his head around. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

"It wasn't long enough. Why are you grinning? Am I wearing the wrong thing?"

"No. I hear it is fashionable these days."

Barbara looked down and saw that her tee-shirt was on inside out. "Bloody hell. You'll have to close the door."

Tommy stepped inside the room and closed it. He stood with a cheeky grin. "Done."

"Outside."

"Oh, you want me to wait outside while you change?"

Barbara picked up the pillow and held it up. "What happened to being a true gentleman?"

"At your service, although a pillow fight could be fun if only we had time." He bowed then exited.

Barbara quickly reversed her shirt then joined him in the corridor. "Are we late?"

"No, we'll be fine."

"Care to tell me where we are going?"

"Chelsea."

"Grr! That's not informative."

"It wasn't meant to be." Tommy playfully flicked his finger on the top of her nose. "You'll just have to wait and see."

As they went downstairs and out into the bracing coolness of the dawn, Tommy made no attempt to take her hand. It seemed his romantic feelings from last night had faded. Barbara knew that she had set that expectation, but it still saddened her. How could she tell him that she both wanted him and feared it?

They walked quickly past the rows of elegant townhouses in the tree-lined streets. As they neared Chelsea, the crisp white terraces with neat entrances and solemn black, navy or green doors gave way to more informal, but no less grand, terrace houses of yellow brick with white window trimmings and flowerpots by the doors with sprays of colour. Barbara had to concede that she enjoyed living here, even though she felt she should hate it. It was ordered and quiet, everything that Chalk Farm was not, yet it still had more vibrancy and diversity than she had imagined.

"A penny for them."

"What? Huh? Oh, nothing."

"If it's about last night, I'm sorry if I overstepped the mark on The Mall."

She looked up at him. "You didn't. It's just that I felt a bit... overwhelmed."

"I understand. Above everything, you're my friend, my soulmate, Barbara. I'd never endanger that."

"Me either."

"So, we're okay?"

"Of course."

"So why were you miles away?"

"I was actually thinking it's nice here."

"Is that an admission that Belgravia's not the Conservative hotbed of inbred, chinless ponces that you thought?"

"Did I say that? Yeah, I probably did. I was wrong."

Tommy put his finger in his ear and jiggled it. "Sorry, I thought I heard you say you were wrong."

Barbara poked her tongue out. "Haha. I was wrong. Satisfied?"

"Very. So, have you thought about moving here permanently?"

"Yeah, right. Sell my mortgaged flat in Chalk Farm and buy here. I should have change left over don't you think?"

Tommy stopped walking and looked at her. "Don't."

Barbara frowned. She knew she had upset him. "Don't what?"

"Pretend that you don't understand what I'm suggesting. I'm asking if you would consider staying on in my house."

"I originally said I'd stay two weeks and then I'd decide about the rest of the three months. Now you want me to what, move in with you?"

"Yes."

"Tommy!"

"You don't have to decide now. I know you've lived by yourself a long time. Maybe you prefer that, I don't know, but we've just agreed we're friends. We get on well. I enjoy having you live with me. You help fill a very empty house and... I've been a lot happier in these few days than I have in a long time. That sounds selfish, but I don't mean it to be. I think you've enjoyed it too. We complement each other, so why can't we share a house? You could rent yours out and earn some extra income to help pay it off faster. I'm not trying take anything from you, Barbara. Quite the contrary. I'm hoping you'll think that it's... well, that it's a good thing."

Barbara was glad they had stopped walking or her knees might have buckled. She breathed deeply three or four times. As much as she wanted to say yes, she had to object and buy time. "Any money I'd make would go in rent to you."

"No! I'm not profiteering. Rent free."

"I can't live there and pay nothing."

Tommy scratched his forehead. "Half the food and half the utilities. Usage only of course, but no rent."

Again he looked so adorable that she wanted to grab him and kiss him and ask if she could share his bed. "I promise to think about it."

Tommy's face lit up like Piccadilly Circus. He glanced at his watch. "Fancy a jog?"

"No. Why is this part of your adventure?"

"No, it's because we're now late."

* * *

Barbara stopped just inside the ornate arch of the black wrought iron gate, her hands on her knees and her chest heaving as she sucked in the foggy air.

"I'll just find Bruce."

"Bruce who?"

"You'll see."

"At least have the decency to puff and pant a bit."

Tommy put his hand on her back. "Sorry."

Barbara grunted. "Go."

She took another have a dozen deep breaths then looked around. The sign at the edge of the park had read 'Cremorne Gardens', but they were not the traditional English gardens. Instead of verdant grass and manicured flowerbeds, it was concrete and steel with abstract nooks and crannies showcasing modern sculptures and follies. Barbara started to wander over to where Tommy had disappeared. As she reached the top of the steps she could see Tommy down by the river talking to a long haired man who was wearing skin tight red leggings.

"Barbara," Tommy called, "over here."

She walked over then saw it. Tommy's talk of adventure suddenly made sense. "Oh no. There is no way I'm getting into that!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay... life!

* * *

"It'll be fun."

Barbara scowled at Tommy then looked back at the sleek flame-red kayak. "Don't blame me if we drown."

Tommy tried to gauge if she was genuinely scared or just being Barbara. "It's a good way to build up your arms and back, and it will be fun."

"So you say."

She was posturing, he decided. There was a hint of excitement in her eyes. "I do."

"The Thames is fascinating from the river, Ms Havers." Bruce, whose red legging were ridiculously tight and left nothing to the imagination, was smiling encouragingly at Barbara. Too encouragingly. Tommy felt a surge of protective jealousy, so put his arm around her shoulder.

"How far do we go?" Barbara asked Bruce.

"Greenwich. Usually, my tours end at Tower Bridge but being a holiday there's less river traffic so we can go further. Just come through to the shed and meet the other couples and grab a coffee, then we'll kit you out in your life vests and do some safety training."

Bruce stripped off his jacket revealing a singlet advertising his company which was stretched tight by muscles that would not have been out of place in a bodybuilder contest. Tommy hugged Barbara a little closer. She looked up at him seemingly aware that he was feeling insecure. She wrinkled her nose in the direction of Bruce's back and gave Tommy the most wonderfully loving grin. Every cell in his body ached to kiss her.

Three other couples were waiting in the shed, all sipping hot drinks. After shaking hands and exchanging greetings, Tommy thought Barbara seemed to relax. Sven and Erika, a young couple from Sweden looked bronzed and fit, but Bill and Jennifer, the couple from Manchester were overweight and in their sixties. They were wedged into a corner while a young couple with strong Californian accents relayed the adventures of their visit to the Sex Museum in Amsterdam. "And then Trey put his hand over my eyes," the slim but overly botoxed woman said.

"I'm not a prude. I mean I went to college in New York, you know. But there was no way Hay-lee was going to look at some of those... objects."

To Tommy, Trey looked anything but a worldly wise traveller. Tight running shorts combined with a Go Pro strapped to a terry-towelling headband that tamed his wild hair reminded him of John McEnroe.

Tommy stepped in and shook their hands and introduced Barbara. Bill gripped him as if he was a lifebuoy. "I am so pleased to meet you, Tommy. Are you from London?"

"Originally, from Cornwall, but yes, I have lived here for many years now." Trey yawned and walked away.

"Okay, team," Bruce called out. "Come over here for a minute. Everyone got a paddle? Right. Put your paddles on your head. Now reach up and grab them just wider than your shoulders. That's a comfortable paddle hold." Bruce continued his briefing before decking them out in blue waterproof jackets and red life preservers.

Preliminaries finished, they carried their paddles to their boats. Tommy and Barbara were assigned to a sleek red double kayak with a unicorn made from the Union Jack emblazoned on the bow. Underneath was the apophthegm, may your dreams come true, which was exactly what Tommy intended to make happen.

"Men in the back, women in the front is generally best."

"Oh man, then my video will only be the back of her head," Trey complained, "she'll spoil my shot."

Tommy looked at Barbara who rolled her eyes and whispered, "I hope he doesn't throw a tantie."

"Or abuse the umpire. Code violation Mr McEnroe."

Barbara laughed and nudged him in the ribs. "Shhh!"

"Most of the view is on the banks, left or right," Bruce told Trey.

Haylee rubbed her boyfriend's arm. "It's fine hon-nee, I'll sit up back."

Seating arranged, they started to climb in. Bruce was happy to stand thigh-high in the water while he held the kayaks steady. The Swedes looked like old hands, but Bill and Jennifer's kayak wobbled like jelly, threatening to capsize.

Tommy felt another unreasonable pang of irritation when Bruce held Barbara's hand to help her settle into the boat. Tommy thumped down into the kayak and slid his long legs into the slot. "Thank you," he said, dismissing Bruce. "Are you comfortable, Barbara?"

When she turned around to reply, the kayak teetered ominously. Tommy gripped the wharf to steady them. Barbara laughed. "Seems I'm always rocking the boat."

Tommy had lost sight of Bruce, but he reappeared in a single yellow kayak. "Follow me. I will circle around to make sure you are all okay, then point out the sights."

Barbara began to paddle, and Tommy matched her stroke making sure that their paddles did not clash. They moved past the motley collection of houseboats moored on the north bank in front of the ugly brown brick apartments that Tommy thought blighted Chelsea. "Sylvia Pankhurst lived in one of those terraces over there," Tommy said, pointing his paddle. "And a bit further down was Turner, the landscape painter, and Steer, and John Tweed who sculpted the statue of Wellington on his horse in St Paul's."

"Are you trying to do Bruce out of a job?"

"No. Just... trying to impress you."

Barbara stopped paddling and swivelled to face him, this time without threatening to roll the kayak. "You've always impressed me."

Tommy could not help but smile at her compliment. "So will I continue my commentary?"

Barbara turned back to the front but nodded. As they paddled under the cast-iron arches of Battersea Bridge the temperature and light dropped. The buzz of the city faded, replaced by the kerthump, kerthump of the heavier lorries and buses crossing above.

"What? No history of the bridge?" Barbara said to him.

"This one was designed by Joseph Bazalgette and built in 1890. The piers are granite, of course, and the design is flawed because it is too narrow for modern traffic, so is a slow bridge to cross, but can't be widened because it is under a historic protection order."

"Steer out into the river," Bruce called out, "we have to go around the pier."

Ahead, running parallel to the river, houseboats lined either side of a long wharf. On the far bank, the glass curves of the modern complex of offices and apartments refracted the early morning yellow and orange across the river. They paddled steadily under Albert Bridge's pink and blue span. The city was quieter here, and Tommy heard larks over the gentle slosh of their paddles.

Even through the jacket and life vest, Tommy could see the outline of Barbara's back. Her shoulders were broader than he had noticed and her neck curved slowly out to her shoulders. She was not angular. Helen and Deborah had both been much sharper in stature. Tommy extrapolated that Barbara would also be curvier over her hips. Her bike pants had compressed her, and his over-sized shirt had hidden the details, but as he continued to watch her, his need to know grew more urgent.

"Hey!"

Tommy refocussed his eyes. "What?"

"You stopped paddling."

He grinned at her. "Did I? Sorry."

"No, you're not. If this is some silly thing about getting me fitter by having to drag your weight through the water you can forget it. I'm not paddling you all the way to Greenwich, Hiawatha. I'm not your slave."

"Minnehaha was not his slave. She was his lover."

"Yeah, well in the movie, he paddled too."

"It was a poem originally."

"I'll bet he paddles in the poem too."

"Well, yes..."

"The defence rests."

Tommy laughed, then splashed her with his paddle as he dug his blade into the green water. Barbara flipped her paddle back and soaked him. Cold dribbled down inside his jacket. "Why you!"

Barbara turned around. A feeling of warmth enveloped him. With the morning light behind her, her hair was the colour of the sun setting over the cove at Howenstowe. Her eyes sparkled like the tops of the waves, and her smile was as broad and white as the beach. It seemed a nostalgic, foolishly romantic comparison that his English master would have labelled purple prose, but to him it was real. Barbara was his past and his future. She completed his life. She was the missing piece he had searched for; the one person who made him happy. "I love you, Barbara."

"You what?"

Tommy could not stop staring at her. He had known, of course he had known, but at that moment his intellect, his body and his spirit were aligned for the first time. This was real. This was how love felt. Everything before had been a conspiracy by one of those three to fool him. This time he wasn't fooled. "I love you. I have hidden that for such a long time, but I do. I know I'm not an easy man to love, but..."

"Come on, Tommy, Barbara," Bruce said as he paddled up beside them. "You're falling behind already."

Barbara's face was red. Tommy ached to know what she was going to say, but Bruce was paddling beside them, urging them on and talking about the features of Battersea Park on the south bank before turning his attention to the north. "And that, of course, is Royal Chelsea Hospital, home of the Chelsea Pensioners. Magnificent buildings. It was founded by Charles the Second in 1682. Wren designed the Chapel and Great Hall. Did you know Margaret Thatcher is interred there? Righto, looks like Bill and Jennifer are drifting into the boating channel. Better go. Try and keep up please."

Bruce stroked out to rescue the wayward kayak. Barbara was facing the front and paddling hard. Tommy took a deep breath. "Did I offend you? I... I've been trying to tell you, but it just... tumbled out."

"I'm not offended."

"But... you don't feel the same way."

"Can we not discuss this by shouting it out across the river?" Barbara's anger was unmistakable.

"Sorry."

"Apology accepted, but please Tommy, can we talk about this somewhere more private?"

"Of course." He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but he saw her pause mid-stroke.

"Don't sulk."

"I'm not sulking."

"Good, because I didn't say I didn't love you."

His mood brightened instantly. "So you do?"

"Tommy!"

"Just put me out of my misery, Barbara."

"Yes, but..." Her voiced trailed away leaving something important unsaid.

"Buts can be talked through."

"Yes, you talk through your butt a lot I've noticed."

"Havers!"

They both began to laugh.


	12. Chapter 12

The tour continued under the red and white Chelsea Bridge. Barbara winced at the roar of the trains thundering overhead on the nearby rail bridge. "The river's not as quiet as I thought," she said, deliberately diverting the conversation back to safer ground.

"And I never realised how much construction was happening on that side of town," Tommy remarked as they paddled past the glass domes of the shiny new apartments surrounding the Battersea Power Station.

Barbara was trying hard not to turn too far in case her eyes met Tommy's. She felt sorry for him. He had made such a genuine but completely ill-timed declaration and now had to sit anxiously waiting for her to talk to him. It was a long way to Greenwich. That would give her time to decide what to say. She dared a glance. He looked like a little boy who had spent weeks crafting a model boat only for it to sink on it's maiden voyage across the pond. He looked up and smiled grimly.

She nodded then turned back to the front and focussed on Vauxhall Bridge. From behind, Tommy was telling her about the selection of the MI6 site after the war. As much as she was interested, she wanted him to stop talking. His voice was too distracting. She wanted silence to carve his awkward declaration of love into her memory. For all his breeding and manners, his sense of timing was appalling. "Never give up your day job for acting," she muttered as they slipped under Vauxhall Bridge.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing. Sorry. You were saying?"

"Not much of interest it seems."

"No. I am interested in what you are saying. Very interested."

"In everything I said?"

Barbara knew what he was trying to ascertain. Not trusting herself to open her mouth, she let a long, slow breath out of her nose before she answered. "Yes, everything."

"Did you know that the Tate over there sits on the site of the old Millbank Prison? After they built Pentonville, Millbank was used to house convicts being transported to Australia. It was a solution to the issues of housing them in rotting hulks on the river. Quite a few men died due to diseases, mostly cholera and typhus."

Barbara smiled. She could hear the change in his tone. She glanced around to see him beaming at her. "No, I didn't know that."

"Want some more trivia?"

"Hmm."

"See Lambeth Bridge up there?"

"Yes."

"What colour is it?"

Barbara studied the bridge as they paddled closer. "Mainly pink and black."

"Pink? It is supposed to be red."

"Is it? Well, it's faded."

Tommy laughed. "Faded grandeur indeed. And what colour is Westminster Bridge?"

"I can't see that far."

"Come on, Barbara. You've been over it often enough."

"Green and black?"

"Very good. So?"

"I don't understand."

"The bridges frame the Westminster Palace, our Houses of Parliament. The red represents the colour of the seats in the House of Lords, and the green is symbolic of the seats in the House of Commons."

Barbara stared at him, then back at the bridge. "I never knew."

"And did you know that the same coloured seats are used in most bicameral Commonwealth parliaments, like Canada and Australia? Even India, I think."

"Oh man, look! Look at Big Ben and all that stonework," Trey said as the Americans paddled dangerously close to the front of their boat.

"Technically, that's Elizabeth Tower. Big Ben is the bell," Tommy said sternly as he and Barbara took evasive action with their paddles to avoid a collision.

"Whatever. You Brits are very exacting."

"Oh, hon-nee, look! It's almost seven. The bell is about to ring."

Tommy groaned. "I should have insisted on a private tour."

Barbara tried to keep a straight face as behind her Tommy continued to harrumph until they paddled towards Westminster Bridge, away from the Americans who were heading towards the bank for a closer view.

"Don't be such a grump, Tommy. They are just excited. Hey, I know some trivia."

"And what would that be?"

Tommy's attention was fully on her, and she had to admit to herself, she enjoyed the way he looked at her. "Do you know the name of that building there? The one behind The Eye?"

"Shell House."

"Shell Centre," she corrected him. "Do you know what's unusual about it?"

"No. I always thought it was quite bland actually."

"When it was built, it was cutting edge. It had a supermarket, hairdresser and other shops for employees. In the basement there is a full Olympic swimming pool and a huge gymnasium but it had something else too."

"What else would fit?"

"It had a rifle range. One of only two in the city."

"Really? I wonder if they used to pin pictures of their bosses as targets?"

Barbara laughed. "That's something I'd say. I might I prove my annual range score if I pinned Hillier's face on the target."

Tommy shrugged. "You've rubbed off on me. At times, I would happily put his face there too."

"But that wasn't what I wanted to tell you."

"Oh?"

"The airconditioning is powered by the Thames. They draw in water over there, just below County Hall, and it flows in, works its magic and comes out about a degree warmer in front of the building."

"Fascinating. How do you know so much about it?"

"I took a tour once when I was at school. It used to have a theatre too but they closed that years ago."

The tour continued slowly down the river with Barbara and Tommy trying to dredge increasingly obscure facts about the buildings they were passing. She was pleased that Tommy was impressed when she knew the height of Cleopatra's Needle, but annoyed with herself that she could not remember more of London's history. Tommy happily filled the gap telling her about the bridges, sewerage works, underground, and the wharves.

"So were any of your ancestors ever locked up in there?" she asked cheekily as they glided past Traitor's Gate.

"Mine? No. Cornwall was too far away. I'm fairly sure we had smugglers somewhere there. Even the gentry were involved because Cornwall was so poor. It was a good way to be able to feed your tenants. Not that we were always aristocracy. The father and grandfather of the first earl were gentlemen, but their holdings were modest."

"Yeah, probably only owned half of Cornwall."

Behind her Tommy laughed. "I have a map at home showing our holdings over time. They were a lot bigger than currently. We had to sell some land to pay death duties in the 1920s."

They paused on the western edge of Tower Bridge waiting for Bruce and the others. "I don't need to know details of your estate."

"I want you to know, Barbara."

"Okay, but the size of your assets has never been important to me."

"I see. Just how I use them?"

Barbara realised the implications of her words and turned scarlet. Tommy was giving her one of his tender, loving looks. She wanted to scramble over and bury herself in his arms. Instead she poked him with her paddle.

"Oi! That's no way to treat a man with extensive assets."

"No, M'lord. I'm sorry, M'lord."

Tommy laughed. "Much better attitude. How are your arms?"

Barbara stretched and flexed her shoulders. "Okay. Tomorrow might be a different story. Unless you are going to put me in your sauna again." Barbara felt her face flush again thinking about his massage skills and imagining them not wearing towels or clothes. His assets were now very much on her mind.

"Yes, I was thinking that. I find it's a good way to stop me getting too stiff."

Barbara had to turn awayfrom his licentious grin. In her scenario, she might prefer the opposite result.

"Here we are again," Bruce said as he caught up to them. "Bill and Jennifer have decided to stop here at our usual end point in St Katherine's Dock. Sven wants to paddle faster and Trey and Haylee are enjoying my commentary. Do you two want to join us, or the Swedes?"

Tommy and Barbara silently debated it and nodded. "We'll tag along with Sven and Erika."

"Righto. My offsider will be at the wharf when you get there. Enjoy it. It's about four miles."

"How far have we come?" Barbara thought they were almost there.

"About five miles."

"It'll take us until lunchtime." Tommy's chuckle earned him a stern look and a raised paddle. "And I know who will be paying for my pint."

The Swedes paddled quickly and the faster that Tommy and Barbara paddled, the harder they pushed. "Are you always so competitive?" Barbara called out.

"Ja! The exercise is invigorating."

Remarkably, Tommy was able to maintain his commentary, highlighting the history of the docks from Henry the Eighth through to the awkward launch of Brunel's SS Great Eastern, and the German bombing raids during the Blitz. Before she knew it, Barbara saw the Cutty Sark, moored near Greenwich Pier,come into view.

"We made it."

"You sound as though you didn't believe it."

"Thank you, Tommy. Apart from my numb bum, and a desperate need to find a bathroom, I enjoyed it."

"There's a pub up on the left. I'll meet you there."

She quickly stripped off her waterproof jacket then left Tommy to manage handing back the kayak while she walked as quickly as the wobbly legs would allow to the pub. The mirror in the bathroom reflected a wild woman. Her hair was windswept and thickened by the salt spray of the Thames. She ran her fingers through it but made it worse.

Tommy was waiting in the bar with a half pint of ale. "You deserve a reward."

"Cheers." Barbara did not argue. She clinked glasses with him and drank thirstily.

"Hold on. You don't have to skol it."

Barbara paused with the glass to her lips, then continued to down the beer. "Yes, I did. I was thirsty." Tommy drank the rest of his more slowly while he looked at her. Barbara wanted to try to tame her hair but did not dare touch it in case it drew his attention. "Another beer, Tommy?"

"No. We can't undo all that exercise. Do you want to walk?"

"Back to Belgravia? That'd take us hours. It must be ten miles."

"I'm not that cruel, Phyllis Diller. I was thinking of a stroll in Greenwich Park."

Barbara laughed despite his teasing. "How come you always manage to look sex... look good no matter what?"

Tommy grinned at her then put his hand on her back to guide her to the door. "So you think I look sexy?"

Barbara searched for another word with that prefix but other than sextuplets, drew a blank. "Mmm," she said, "people have said that about you."

His arm came around her shoulders as they walked past the cream buildings of the old naval college. "And what do you say?"

"You know you're an attractive man. Stop fishing for compliments."

"I'm not really. I just..." His voice trailed off as they waited at the traffic lights to cross Romney Road.

The park entrance was a block ahead and neither of them spoke until they were inside the large black and gold wrought iron gates. Tommy slowed his pace as they passed the Herb Garden and steered them off the concrete path and onto the grass. Barbara's stomach gurgled as the resting butterflies took flight.

"Let's sit over there," he said, pointing to a bench beneath a spreading oak. "We need to talk."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note:** Sorry for the delay in posting. I have been on holiday (literally out the back of Bourke for my Aussies friends) with intermittent wifi access.

* * *

Tommy sat on the timber seat underneath the oak and patted the spot next to him. "Let's sit here." Barbara looked around then sat about a foot away from him. Tommy frowned. "I don't bite."

"I know, but... well, we both... but..." Despite rambling, she sat.

"On the river, I was inelegant, but I spoke the truth."

Barbara looked around, avoiding his eyes. "I know."

"And?"

"I don't know what to say."

Tommy ran his fingers through his hair. "I think you just said it. I thought... never mind. Can we still be friends?"

She found his hand and held it firmly. "We'll always be friends, Tommy, but it's not that simple. I love you. I've loved you for so long that I can't remember not loving you. But..."

Now Tommy was not sure how to respond. He wanted to smile, pull her into his arms and never stop kissing her, yet he sensed Barbara needed time and reassurance. "But?" Barbara shook her head and stared at the ground. Tommy squeezed her hand. "You're scared?"

Barbara looked up. "Yes. How did you know?"

Tommy pushed her hair behind her ear. "Because I am too."

"You are?"

"Of course. I love you, Barbara, but I have a lousy history with women."

Barbara nodded. "So do I."

Tommy raised his eyebrows. "With women?"

"No! With relationships. Not that I've ever had anything you could call a relationship. I don't have the experience for any of this."

"Of course you do."

"No. I don't. I haven't even really kissed anyone. Not properly. Not sober. Because of Terry, I missed all that awkward teenage fumbling that is supposed to train you. No one wanted anything to do with me because I was so angry."

"Believe it or not, I was similar."

"But, you are..."

"I'm what?"

Barbara looked down at her feet. "Apparently very skilled."

Tommy laughed. "Am I? Office gossip?"

Barbara turned red. "Mmm."

"You can't believe everything said about me. In fact I insist that you don't. I was trained about women by the mother of one of my schoolmates. I don't regret it, but in some ways I also missed that joy of discovery. It's not hard to satisfy a woman when you try, but it is a lot harder to be satisfied when you don't love them."

"But that's what I mean. I don't know how to satisfy you."

"It's not physical. Well not entirely. It's about sharing yourself, your feelings, making your partner feel loved. You already do that, so I don't think it's quantum leap if we do decide to take this further."

"You're unsure?"

"About how I feel? Not at all. But I don't want to push you or make you uncomfortable, Barbara."

"Last night. I... I wanted to kiss you. I'd like... I don't know how to say it. I'd like that and more, but..."

Tommy could feel her pain. He moved closer and put his arm around her. Her body was trembling. "Tell me, Barbara. What's scaring you?"

"That we'll end up in bed and I'll disappoint you and this will be a horrible mistake and then we'll be horrendously embarrassed and I'll lose you."

"You won't disappointment me, and it won't be embarrassing. Even if it was, you won't lose me."

"But if..."

"Shhh." He wiped away a tear that ran down her cheek. "Maybe we should pretend we're fifteen and just let nature take it's course as slowly as you need."

Barbara's hand clenched the front of his shirt into a ball. "You'd do that?"

"Of course. It could be a lot of fun." Their bodies had drifted closer together. "A first nervous kiss in Greenwich Park sounds perfect."

"It does."

Tommy touched his lips softly against hers. His whole body tingled. As much as he wanted to devour her, he pulled away then wrapped his arms around her and guided her body against his own. Barbara arms slipped around him and gripped his shirt. Her quivering subsided as he moved his hands up and down her back.

"I love you, Barbara. So very, very much."

"Then kiss me again."

Tommy cradled her head in his hand as he kissed her. Featherlight caresses became firmer as their lips began to dance. Barbara's initial hesitation seemed to fade. She groaned heavily as he captured her bottom lip and rolled it slowly left to right. Tommy released her fearing he had moved too fast.

"No, more... I like it."

"So do I."

For ten minutes they sat on the bench slowly exploring. Hands traced the contours of each other's shoulders and backs, pausing and playing in response to tender moans. Their lips wandered around each other, across faces and over chins.

"Come on, Charles. It's rude to stare."

Tommy glanced sideways to see a young boy watching them as he ate an ice cream cone. The boy's mother grabbed his arm and tugged to pull him away but the boy continued to stare until Tommy frowned at him.

"We should take this somewhere more private," Tommy whispered before he sucked gently on her earlobe.

"Not a hotel."

"No, home. Let's take the ferry."

Hand-in-hand they walked back towards Greenwich Pier. Tommy noticed the clock on the pole above the street. "Hungry? Or is that a silly question?"

"Probably. What do you fancy?"

"Apart from you? Something we can eat on the ferry."

They decided on fish and chips from a quaint chippery on the main street. The smell of salt and hot oil assaulted his nostrils. Barbara suggested sharing one larger meal to keep her calorie count down. "I'm not going to fail that test and be split up."

Tommy leant on the counter and played with the small rubber fish they the owner kept there to amuse young children. Without looking at her he made a suggestion that had been running through his mind all day. "At the moment, my thoughts are that we should both resign and run away together."

"You're taking being fifteen a bit far, Tommy. No, this is something I have to do. For us, as much as for me."

Tommy nodded. "I understand."

"Do you? I want to be healthier but I also want to prove to myself that I can do it. If I run away and rely on you to get me out of it, I'll have failed."

Tommy turned and looked at her. "I do understand. Is relying on me to help and encourage you acceptable?"

"Perfectly. Start by not letting me eat all the chips."

They had to race the last hundred yards to board the ferry. The deckhand mumbled at them, but they didn't care. Laughing, they pushed their way to the outside deck at the stern. Tommy unwrapped the first layer of newspaper and poked a hole big enough to pull out chips and strips of the fish they had bought. He grabbed a chip and held it out for her.

"I'm not a dog, Tommy."

He moved the chip closer. "I was trying to be romantic and feed you."

"Like this." Barbara seized a chip from the bag and held it to his lips.

He opened his mouth and let her slide the chip inside before biting it off. He closed his eyes and groaned softly. "My mistake. Let me try again."

Before long, their arms were around each other and their heads were touching as they fed each other. Tommy gave the last chip to Barbara. "I haven't had that much fun eating since Mother fed me with my aeroplane spoon. You have salt on your chin."

"Do I?"

Before she could reach up to wipe it off, Tommy leant over and in a gesture that surprised even him, licked it off. He had not meant it to be erotic but when Barbara's hand settled at the top of his thigh, he closed his eyes and sighed. His mouth found hers and this time it took little persuasion for her to open to him.

They broke apart, panting, but their faces hovered close. "Oh, Tommy!"

He grinned at her. "Yes, it was rather."

"Look at the bridge from this angle."

"Mmm." Shocked, and more than mildly offended that it was architecture and not him that had captured her admiration, he grunted.

"Magic. My first proper snog and it was under Tower Bridge."

"Which did you prefer? The location, or the kiss?"

Barbara ruffled his hair. "Oh, I don't know..." She shook her head. "Your kiss, of course."

"Then perhaps..." Barbara pulled him towards her and silenced him with another kiss.

Neither of them saw anything of the rest of the journey. They were lost in each other. Tommy had waited so long for her to be in his arms, that it felt like a dream.

"Excuse me," the deckhand said loudly when the ferry docked at Lambeth Bridge. "Sir, madam, you have to get off."

Tommy looked up. "Oh, sorry."

They scurried off the boat. "There's a hotel just down the road," the deckhand called after them.

Barbara's face was red. She refused to look at him. Tommy grabbed her hand and pulled her close. "Barbara."

"Not here. They're watching."

"Let them. I don't care who knows that I'm in love with you." He put his arm around her and leant down and kissed her. To his surprise she did not pull away.

* * *

The walk back to Belgravia was done at a clip that approached a jog. Holding hands, they weaved in between a group of straggling students just released from one of London's top schools, before encountering the first rush of peak hour commuters outside Victoria Station. Tommy led her down a side street. It was quiet. He paused to kiss her again against the painted metal of a high Victorian fence.

"It feels like I've waited my entire life for this," he said as her rested his forehead against hers.

"Don't pressure me, Tommy. Please."

He stepped back and stroked her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm just... happy."

"No. I'm sorry. I'm just tired and sore."

"Arms?"

"Yeah, and back."

"Come on then. My sauna awaits. We can sit in there for a while and then have some dinner and watch a movie. No pressure at all, although I do hope you'll let me do that you again."

Barbara grabbed his shirt. "Yeah. That sounds good." She pulled him closer and kissed him.

* * *

Tommy lay on his bed with his hands behind his head. Upstairs he could hear Barbara moving around. He missed her already. He was sure she had enjoyed the evening as much as him. It had started with their sauna. Tommy had stripped off to his shorts and was sitting on a towel while he waited for Barbara. She had entered the sauna in one of the white robes he had left hanging in the gym. When he saw the deep v-line where the robe crossed he knew she had removed her shirt. He had smiled, and she had slowly opened the robe and slipped it from her shoulders.

Barbara had stood in her bike pants and sports bra watching him carefully. Tommy knew instantly is was a either a test, or that she was showing him that she trusted him. The white welts where she had been shot mottled her stomach, some grouped into a hard knot just to the right of her navel where most of the shotgun pellets had torn into her flesh. He understood that she expected him to recoil. The scars were not ugly, but the memory of almost losing her felt like a stab to his heart. He had smiled lovingly then stood and pulled her into a tight hug telling her how much he loved her and how glad he was that she had lived.

Barbara relaxed considerably after that, as if it had been one of the key issues worrying her. Tommy had embraced her, their bodies hot and sweaty and sliding against each other. He had massaged her arms, then her shoulders and back. It had started as remedial but it had ended sensually, with slow gentle strokes. Barbara had not objected to his fingers wandering over her chest as his palms massaged her sides. Gradually Tommy had become bolder, responding to her murmurs of pleasure. Barbara had held her breath when he had begun to slip his hands under her bra as he had tracked a line of kisses across the shoulder and up to her ear.

The memory made him feel light and floaty. It was as far as they progressed, but it had felt like they had overcome a monumental hurdle. He shook his head then realised the sound he heard was a knock on his door. He opened it. Barbara was standing in oversized blue and red pyjamas holding her pillow. "Hello, Spiderwoman."

Barbara raised her eyebrows and grinned. "Hi, Johnny Weissmuller."

Tommy looked down to see he was dressed in nothing but his trunks. "I was in bed," he offered as an excuse for his state of dress.

"I... Well... I..."

"Do you want to come in?"

Barbara nodded and Tommy stepped aside. "Barbara..."

"Tommy..."

They had spoken over each other. "You first, Barbara."

"I missed you."

"I was just lying here thinking how much I missed you." He nodded at her pillow. "Did you come for that pillow fight?"

She shook her head. "I was hoping..."

Tommy took a long, slow breath. "To stay?"

Barbara looked everywhere but at Tommy. "If you want me to."

"I do."

She looked up but seemed uncertain. "Be gentle with me, Tommy."

He stepped forward and took her in his arms, holding her close. Her heart thumped against his stomach, almost as fast as his was pounding. "We can just cuddle."

"No, Tommy. It's time."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note:** I was fascinated to see the reactions to the last chapter and how 'it's time' signified to some that Barbara was forcing the issue and/or putting pressure on them rather than it being organic. Sorry for the delay again. Back home again. I was too ambitious thinking I could travel and write.

* * *

Barbara sat nervously as she waited for her assessment. The doctor's offices overlooked Hyde Park, and she sat watching a woman on a horse trotting around in circles. The rooms seemed purpose built, and she had learned that it was used to test all the services from ambulance officers and firemen. There were fourteen people to be tested, and she was the last one to see the doctor for her physical. She texted Tommy for the third time. _Still waiting. Worse than a dentist._

He replied straight away. _Relax. You'll be fine. Wish I was with you._

She was about to reply when her phone rang. "I can't talk here, Tommy."

"Miss Havers? It's Dan Miles."

"Oh."

"From the real estate agency. It's about your tenant."

Barbara sighed. "Now is not the best time, Dan. Is there a problem?"

"No. The tenant wants to make an offer to buy your flat. It's an offer above market rate. I would consider it very seriously."

"How much?" Dan told her the figure. "Wow. That's 30,000 pounds above the valuation."

"Please consider it, and let me know."

"I will. Thank you. I need to discuss it with my... partner."

Barbara sat back and thought about everything. She and Tommy were inseparable. They were happier than either of them had ever been, and she was sure their relationship was stable. Her concerns about making love had been completely misplaced, and her abdomen knotted in anticipation as she remembered that first night when she had gone to his room. Tommy had been tender, patient and loving. He had kissed and explored every inch of her body and encouraged her to do the same. She had melted under his lips and moulded to his body. The final act had felt so natural that she had not even realised it was happening until they were screaming each other's names.

Since then they had been almost insatiable. Sometimes she wondered if poor Denton might have a heart attack hearing them, especially when they were in the sauna or the gym, but Tommy had assured her that his valet's rooms were soundproofed. Barbara had not yet asked why. There were some things she did not need to know.

She had no intention of ever returning to Chalk Farm, and she knew Tommy would hate it if she did. He had been so much happier that even his mother had commented. Dorothy had been very accepting of her as Tommy's partner, perhaps too much so. She had insisted that Barbara's name was included next to Tommy's on the annual invitation to the Howenstowe Spring Ball next month. Dorothy was even coming down in two weeks to take her shopping for a suitable dress. Against all her instincts, Barbara had agreed, but only because she knew showing an interest would delight Tommy. She had been right. The look he had given her had been worth the future humiliation.

"Sergeant Havers." The doctor stood at the door to the consulting room. The thin young woman wore designer everything. From her ultra-fashionable Scandinavian glasses to her Jimmy Choo shoes, she looked as if she had stepped out of the latest Vogue.

"Yes. Here."

"Doctor Benson. Come through." The doctor smiled revealing perfect white teeth.

Benson smiled as she took Barbara's blood pressure then measured her height and weight. "You are a couple of kilos above what you should be my dear. You borderline overweight, but if you pass your test, it will just be a recommendation to lose them, but nothing more serious."

"Good." In three months, Barbara had already lost over ten kilos thanks to Tommy's exercise and diet regime. He had also lost weight and was back to looking as good as he had in their first years together. While she loved what it did to his body, she resented that he could lose it without effort, and had told him so on more than one occasion.

Benson gestured for her to take a seat. "Are you on any medication?"

"No."

"Oral contraceptive?"

"No."

Dr Benson peered over her glasses. "Not sexually active?"

Barbara blushed. Tommy regularly joked that she was very active and told her how much he enjoyed it. "Er, well, yes, I am."

"Barrier protection?"

Barbara frowned. "Sorry?"

"Your contraception. Are you using a diaphragm or condoms?"

Barbara gasped. "Er, condoms... mostly." She did not add that she and Tommy had been rather haphazard with them, preferring a more natural feel.

"So you might be pregnant?"

"No. I don't think so."

"We should check. Are you in a relationship? Or are you a hookup Charlie?"

"A what?"

"It's a term for those who find partners on social media sites."

Barbara raised her eyebrows. "What does this have to do with my fitness test?"

"I need to assess your total health risk."

"I'm in a relationship."

"Good. No previous pregnancies?"

"No."

"Are you planning to start a family? At your age, I wouldn't leave it much longer. There are risks."

"My focus has been on getting ready for this test."

The doctor frowned as if trying to work out how Barbara's statement was related to hers. "Do you have your urine sample?"

Barbara handed over the yellow-lidded jar. Benson pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves with a snap. She took the sample to the sink, dipped in three sticks and waited. Barbara held her breath. Although she had said she was not pregnant, there was some doubt in her mind. She and Tommy had only been careful when she thought it might be dangerous. It was a very ad hoc method, and she knew they had avoided talking about the future because they were so focused on the test.

"All clear. You're not pregnant, and there's no blood or protein."

Barbara slowly released her breath and felt a pang of regret. "Good."

"Up on the bench." Benson examined Barbara, poking and prodding in places Barbara preferred no one but Tommy to see. "No issues that I can see. Take this paperwork and head out to see Officer O'Mara. Good luck."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"And think about what I said about better contraception. Don't rely on being too old."

Barbara smiled tightly. Too old! She had to concede that was an issue. She needed to have a conversation with Tommy, but first, she had to do her assessment.

Officer O'Mara was built like Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime. Mountainous muscles rippled above a base of taut curves that stretched his ambulance service shirt tight across his chest. He looked down at Barbara and snarled, "Sergeant Havers?"

"Yes."

He pointed to the corner of the room. "There's your deadlift. Five please."

Barbara walked cautiously to the bar. The weights at each end were both two kilograms lighter than the one Tommy had taught her to lift. She spread her feet evenly to shoulder width, took a deep breath then bent down and wrapped her fingers around the bar. She made as all adjustment, wriggled her fingers then exhaled slowly as she lifted the bar to her waist.

"One," O'Mara called out. "Two... Three... Four... Five. Well done Havers. Now, fifty sit-ups please."

This was the part Barbara hated most. She lay on the bench, hooked her feet under the bar, put her hands on the side of her head, and closed her eyes. Tommy had shared his theory that is hurt less if you could not see it, and she had found it helped. She began.

"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty. Okay, Havers. Five-minute break, then report to Officer Goodburn at the gate to the park for your run."

* * *

Tommy waited impatiently in his office for news. He knew that it would look far too suspicious if he went over to Hyde Park, and Barbara might resent it. What he considered support, she might see as spying. He had been extra cautious the last few days because he had lied to her. He hoped she understood and accepted it as a surprise, but Barbara was still Barbara.

It had been almost two hours since her last text, and he was beginning to become concerned. He sat and watched his phone, waiting for it to spring to life.

"Are you trying to train it in telepathy?"

"Barbara! I thought you'd call me."

She came into his office and collapsed into the chair near the window. Her running pants were sweat-soaked, and her tee-shirt was wet. "Thirty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds."

Tommy walked over and kicked his door shut. He pulled her from the chair and into his arms. "That's fantastic news."

"No kiss?"

"If I do, I will have trouble stopping there."

"Yes, well we know you like me all hot and sweaty. You'll have to think of new ways to do that to me."

"I know several. Come on. Get your things. You have a few days leave."

"Leave? I never applied for leave."

"I processed your application and Hillier processed mine. They just happened to align."

Barbara grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards her. "Oh, did they indeed? What a coincidence. So where are you taking me?"

"Home to get changed then somewhere I hope you will like."

"I'm sure I will. Should we tell Hillier I passed?"

"No, not yet. I don't want any questions about when you are going to move out of my house."

"Ah, yes, that reminds me. About my place..."

Tommy's stomach lurched. "You don't..."

"No! Not unless..."

"No! Definitely not."

"Good because I've had an offer on my flat. A very good one."

Tommy frowned. "I didn't know you'd listed it."

"I didn't. The current tenant wants to buy it. Thirty thousands pounds above that valuation I had done."

"You should take it. See if you can get another couple of thousand, but take it. We can invest the money for you. I can make an appointment with my financial advisor."

"Thanks. So if I'm staying on in Belgravia, what do we tell Hillier?"

"Let's not even think about it just yet. We have four days to ourselves." He glanced at his watch. "And somewhere we have to be."

"Lead on."

Tommy knew that they had a lot to discuss. He wanted to have those conversations away from the Met, and away from London.

* * *

Two hours later they were at St Pancras waiting for the Eurostar. "I still can't believe you tricked me."

"I hated lying to you Barbara, but I wanted it to be a surprise."

"And you used your position as my boss to do it."

He looked at her and tried to gauge if she was angry or just making a point. "Yes, I did. I'm sorry."

Barbara rubbed his jacket sleeve. "It's okay. It seemed entirely credible that the Met needed to check our passport details. I will have to be more suspicious of you in future."

"Not too suspicious. I'm an honourable man I'll have you know."

"Hmm, the aristocracy have always had funny ideas about honour."

"Barbara, I thought we were over that."

"It was a joke, M'lord."

The loudspeaker crackled. "The four thirty-one Eurostar to Paris is now ready to board on Platform 3. All aboard please."

Tommy smiled. "That's us. Come on."


	15. Chapter 15

Tommy had booked a room in an intimate hotel by the Seine, overlooking the Tuileries Gardens. Defying the humble, slightly crumbling exterior, their room at the top of a five-storey walk-up was spacious by French standards. It was decorated simply in a Louie Phillipe style that used the rich mahogany tones of the wardrobe and four poster bed to contrast with the soft cream wallpaper. The bed, against the longest wall, was carefully positioned to capture the light and views through the large window that looked over the gardens.

Barbara was told to close her eyes as Tommy led her to the window. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist then rested his chin on her shoulder "You can open them now."

To the right was the unmistakable obelisk on Place de la Concorde, to the left, over the river, was Place des Invalides and in the centre, standing guard over the city was the Eiffel Tower just beginning to glow with the early evening light. "Oh, Tommy! It's beautiful."

"Just like you," he whispered as he traced a line of soft kisses up her neck.

"Nothing like me." Barbara turned to face him. "Thank you, Tommy. Coming here was a brilliant idea."

"I have another one." Tommy's lips found hers before she could answer. He slowly kissed her backwards across the room until they tumbled onto the soft cotton duvet on the rather bouncy bed.

* * *

Lynley pulled his watch from the bedside table. It was nearly ten o'clock. "Hungry?"

"I only packed that one black dress that I wear all the time. You haven't booked Maxim's have you?"

"Even Maxim's prefers it's diners to arrive before now. I think we might have to settle for some street food."

"Sounds like fun."

"The Parisians hated the concept at first, but now they have several small stores and vans that sell excellent food."

Barbara began to dress. "Where's my bra?"

Tommy lay on the bed and watched as she searched. "It's Paris. Don't wear one. Be daring."

She paused and looked at him, raising one eyebrow. "I'm game if you are."

"Tommy stood and pulled his suit trousers over his naked rump. "Well, that's that settled."

Paris was buzzing. Tommy took Barbara's hand as they stepped outside their hotel. Groups of students in black jeans, paisley shirts and leather jackets sauntered past. A young man with long black hair looked at Barbara and whistled. The men laughed at the way Tommy bristled, or perhaps the way Barbara put her hand on his arm to reassure him. They waved then began to run after some friends up the street. Older couples walked purposefully. Some were in evening wear, headed to a function or party. From experience, Tommy could tell they were still trying to think of plausible excuses to turn around and go somewhere fun.

Young couples stopped under every lamp post or in every building recess. All were kissing and some, Tommy was sure, were only a step away from being arrested for indecent behaviour.

"So this is why they call it the city of love," Barbara said, "because everyone snogs in the streets."

"I think they'd refer to it somewhat more romantically than snogging." Tommy stopped and put his arms around her. "This is not snogging." Tommy kissed her, slowly, deeply and tenderly.

"I thought you were hungry. Too much of that and we'll be straight back to that room."

"Hmm, I think I'd like that." Tommy nudged Barbara against a lamp post. As he kissed her his hand closed over her breast as he pressed closer. "Mmm, I'm glad you took my advice."

"Thomas Lynley! Behave."

He felt the heat on her skin beneath his lips, but she did not try to move away. "Sorry, but Paris does this to people."

"So it seems. I'll never get to see it at this rate."

"You have a point. However, I cannot guarantee that I won't be feeling amorous when we return to our room."

"I think I can guarantee I will be. Now come on."

Tommy put his arm around her shoulders as they walked through the gardens. He spotted a couple coming from a van with a fabulous trail of sweetness lingering behind them. "Fancy a crepe?"

"With Nutella and cream?"

"So, the ten kilos is going back on, starting tonight?"

"No. This is a special celebration. After all that hard work to get fit."

"Nutella it is then."

Carrying their hot crepes wrapped in greaseproof paper, they headed towards the river. Like the people, the city of lights was full of colour. The dark sky was punctuated with soft balls of yellow from the faux gas lamps that lined the streets. Shadows fell in crisscrossing patterns on the wide stone footpaths, and buildings were adorned with vibrant white light that transformed them into silver monoliths that were romantic yet held a hint of menace beyond just the gnarly gargoyles.

They were half way across Pont del la Concorde when Tommy stopped. They learnt on the stone balustrade and looked at the water as they finished their crepes. One of the gaily decorated party boats drifted beneath them. Boppy music spilt from the open windows. Barbara pointed excitedly at the blue spotlight that scanned the city from atop the tower. Slowly it spiralled around before beaming up to the heavens as if announcing Paris to the gods. "Oh, Tommy. This is so... romantic."

He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "It's supposed to be."

"If only real life was like this and we could stay in love and never have to think about murderers or Form A75632s or Hillier again."

Tommy turned his face to hers. "We can. I certainly intend to stay in love, and we have options for our future."

"We have to talk about them sometime. I... we... focussing on my assessment meant we didn't have to think about it, but now... we have to... you know."

"Align our expectations?"

"Something like that, Tommy."

"Shall I start?"

Barbara frowned. "Yeah."

"I expect us to stay together. I want you to move in with me."

"I thought you'd have noticed me in your bed already?"

"Ah, so you're the source of that chainsaw noise."

Barbara whacked him on his chest. "Ha bloody ha, Mister Harley Davidson."

"I want it to be official. I want everyone to know we're partners in every sense of the word."

"I... want that too, but..."

Now Tommy frowned. "But?"

"Your lifestyle is so different to mine. And even though your family seem happy for us now, do they think I'm just..."

"Just what?" Tommy tried to keep the irritation out of his voice but was only partially successful.

"I worry that they see me as a transition for you. Someone who helps you get back on the horse so to speak."

Tommy pulled her into an embrace. "They don't. Mother told me that she's glad I found someone who finally touches my soul."

"Mmm."

"Is Mother really the issue or are you worried that I might think that way? That this relationship is just the final stage of grief?"

"Not exactly."

He kissed her head and pulled her closer. "Not at all. "

"I just worry that I love you too much. All this..." She gestured at the river and city. "I don't deserve it."

"Yes, you do. You deserve the world, Barbara. You've put up with me for years and never once faltered." Tommy fiddled in his pocket and retrieved a small box. "You know I thought about how to do this for days. I considered a grand gesture on top of the Eiffel Tower, but then I thought it would be too cliched..."

"Tommy?"

He sank to one knee. "I thought a perfect time would pop up somewhere. More than anything in the world I want you to share my life, as my partner and Countess. I can't promise that I won't be an idiot at times, but I will be an idiot who always loves you. We are meant to be together, Barbara."

"Tommy!"

He opened the box to reveal a ring with a modestly sized diamond that caught the light from the lamp and refracted it into a small rainbow. "Will you make an honest Earl of me?"

"Get up. Everyone will know what you're doing." Even in the night light, Tommy could see her face go red as she looked around.

"Who cares? Why does it bother you?"

"I never thought... anyone... let alone you."

"But I have, so?"

"Tommy, I want to say yes, more than anything, but we haven't talked about the practicalities yet."

He stood. "If you're worried about the Countess aspects, it's less than you think..."

"I'm not," she interrupted, "what do we do about work? And more importantly, the doctor told me we shouldn't leave it too late to try for children. We haven't discussed that. I would like them if we can, but..."

"So would I."

"You wouldn't...?"

"No. I wouldn't whatever you are worried about. We haven't exactly been strict about making sure you don't fall pregnant. I thought you understood from that that it was something I would be happy about if it happened. I hoped would happen sometime and I assumed that you felt the same way. But to be quite clear, I want to create little people with you, Barbara. Part of you and me bound together forever."

"Really?"

"We can start tonight if you like."

Barbara smiled. "You can't just create them on demand."

"No, but I think I know what causes them. We can practice at least. And as to work, you said yourself; it would be nice not to have to deal with it all anymore. I think we should both leave the Met."

Barbara was stroking his back which he took as a good sign. "Where would we live?"

"London mostly. Maybe when we have children, we can spend more time in Cornwall, but I won't whisk you off to the ends of England away from everything you know and need. We have a good life in London."

"I only know London, but I only need you."

"And I only need you. So, any other practicalities?"

"No."

"So?"

"Yes! Of course, I will marry you."

Tommy lifted the ring from the box and slid it on her finger. "Perfect fit."

Barbara looked down and grinned goofily. "How did you know my size?"

"I know every inch of you." Tommy laughed at her expression. "Don't look so shocked. I'm a detective. I borrowed that silver ring you sometimes wore when we went out and took it to the jeweller. I wanted something smart but not too ostentatious."

Barbara held it up. "It's perfect. Just like you."

"I'm glad, although I'm not perfect."

"Perfect for me." She leant over and kissed him, pressing his back against the bridge balustrade.

Tommy felt faint when they finally broke apart. "We should go back to the hotel before we are the ones arrested."

"Or we fall in the Seine."

Holding hands and laughing freely, they dashed across the park and into their future.


End file.
